Cat and Mouse
by Sincerely Tiffany
Summary: A new detective temporarily joins Intelligence to help identify, locate and capture a serial killer who has plagued the Chicago streets for weeks. However, when he sets his sights upon a happily married Erin, her marriage isn't the only thing she's at risk of losing.
1. Eyes

It's a late Friday night. It's a crowded location. It's the hottest new nightclub in Chicago. Lindsay and Burgess have been here for at least two hours –dancing the night away in six inch heels- waiting for something to happen; they're on the prowl for any type of suspicious activity. It's loud. The bass of the music shakes the ground they're standing on. Multicolored lights are flashing around the interior of the nightclub. They've been dancing for over an hour and it was definitely time for a much needed break. As they make their way towards the bar, the sweaty bodies of dancing clubbers momentarily rub against them as they squeeze through the crowd. Finding their way towards the only two empty barstools, Lindsay and Burgess caught the eye of the bartender and nodded when he rose up two martinis.

"Thanks," they say in unison as the drinks are set down in front of them.

Erin lifts her drink and takes the smallest sip, "…this is really good. Did you try it?"

"Oh my gosh," Kim whispers after taking a sip, "…this is amazing," she takes another sip.

"Ladies, focus," Voight reminds –his demanding voice loud in their ear piece. He leans towards the microphone in the surveillance van, "you're not there to taste test drinks. Save that for when you're not currently working undercover."

Voight was right. This wasn't the time for relaxing and enjoying the endless discount drinks that ladies night provided at the nightclub. This was the time to scope out the location for any signs of suspicious activities, threats, or any signs of women being preyed upon by an unwanted force. Erin and Kim were here because they resemble the four women who had been found dead in the last two months. They were undercover because they were young, brunette and white. They matched the description of his victims perfectly, so Intelligence saw the opportunity to put two great detectives undercover to scope and draw him out. When discovered, each woman was found with a missing body part and party beads around their neck; party beads that match those given out at the entrance of this nightclub. It was what each woman had in common besides their appearance; they all attended this nightclub at one point before being found strangled.

"Any suspicious sightings," Burgess asks, whispering into the earpiece lodged within her ear.

Mouse looks over his shoulder as the team watch the surveillance videos –when they shake their heads, he turns back to the microphone, "Negative."

The Intelligence team is cramped inside of a surveillance van parked in the parking lot of the nightclub. Mouse hacked them into the video feed of the club's surveillance cameras in order to provide extra eyes in scoping out the area and be aware of anything going on around them that they may not catch by themselves. Lindsay and Burgess had been at the club for the last two, almost three hours and this was their first drink of the night. They deserved it. After a long week of no leads and spending hours inside of a hot and crowded nightclub with men constantly eyeing you like candy and whistling as you dance, this drink was definitely warranted.

"Here you go," the bartender announces as he sets another drink down in front of Erin.

She lifts it up, "I didn't order this."

"The gentleman down this end of the bar," the bartender shouts over the music as he nods his head in the man's direction, "he ordered it for you."

Erin caught his eye –the man was watching her; smiling. She raised the glass further upwards, nodded her head to say thanks before downing the shot. With the now empty shot glass still touching her lips, Erin turns away from the man, "The man who just bought me a drink," she's facing Burgess, but her words are directed at Mouse, "what can you tell me?"

"The software is unable to get a good visual of his face," Mouse informs –his fingers are flying along the keyboard as he continues to try and scan the stranger's face. The lighting was dim and the surveillance camera only saw him at an angle. It was impossible to get a good read.

"Hey," Erin shouts –her fingers snap to earn the bartender's attention- she waves him over once he looks, "Do you know anything about the guy who bought me a drink?"

After throwing the dishtowel over his shoulder, the bartender responds, "I don't know him well, but I do know that he's been coming here a lot more frequently."

"When did he start coming?"

"…one, maybe two months ago."

"Thanks," Erin asserts, watching as the bartender nods before melting away into the cries of the many other thirsty clubbers shouting their drink orders, "Did you guys catch that?" She pushes the earpiece further into her ear as the club music's volume increases.

It's Dawson's voice that fills their earpiece next, "He started coming to the club around the time the murders started happening."

"You're still nursing your drink," Kim pushes her empty glass forward, "I can approach him."

"He ordered me a drink," Erin lifts her first drink and swallows the remaining contents before slamming the glass down onto the bar top, "…the least I can do is say thank you."

"Be careful," the voice of Jay fills her head. She hears the concern in his voice. She can picture the apprehension and the uneasiness on his face. She knows he's watching her. And all she can think of doing to ease his worry is look up, eye the surveillance camera and give him a wink of the eye. It's an assurance that she'll make it out of this just fine. It's a guarantee that she'll make it back to him –back to her husband.

Lindsay's hands press against the bar top as she pushes against it to step down from the barstool. Her hands ruffle up the back of her hair as the tips of her nails comb through the few tangles, "How do I look?" Erin's lips purse together as she straightens her posture.

Burgess smiles, "You look hot. Go get him tiger." She gives her best friend an encouraging pat on the back before sending Erin off to approach their first and only possible suspect.

It was dark in the club, but by now, Erin's eyes had already adjusted to the dim lighting. The multicolored flashes of light surrounded the dance floor leaving the area around the dance floor with low brightness. Any sources of light came from the neon signs on the wall which only managed to illuminate faces, cleavage and the standout hairstyles of the crowd. Erin excused her way through the crowd, and by the time she approached the farthest end of the bar, his stool was turned and he was facing her –watching her as she approached, "I was wondering when you were going to get the courage to walk on over." His feet rest upon the bottom bar of the stool he's sitting upon; his legs are bent and open as he leans his elbows back onto the bar top, "Wow, your eyes are absolutely stunning."

"I'm Erin," she introduces, extending her hand towards the man.

He takes her hand in his, "Tyler."

"I came to thank you for the drink."

Erin hears laughter fill her ear –she desperately wishes she could remove the listening device when Ruzek's voice fills her head, "Come on Lindsay. I'm sure you can flirt better than that."

"Hey," she muttered, briefly turning away from Tyler, "I'm a little rusty. I haven't flirted with someone in over two years."

"You two don't flirt?" Ruzek turns to face Halstead.

Jay rolls his eyes, "It's different."

"…because you're married?" Adam laughs, patting his closest friend on the shoulder, "Hey Burgess, whenever we get married let's not turn into these two."

"Shut up. I'm trying to work here." Erin growls, as she struggles to concentrate on Tyler's hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

A pair of hands wrap around her waist pushing her nerves on edge at the sudden contact. His confidence takes her by surprise –he pulls her close. His mouth near her ear, and his low voice whispers, "You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen."

"This isn't awkward for you?" She hears Kevin ask Jay.

"Zip it Atwater," Voight snaps; his eyes piercing warningly towards the younger detective.

"How about we take this to the dance floor?"

Tyler slides from the barstool; his arms never once unwrapped themselves from around her waist. Her eyes are locked on his, and there are absolutely no words that could describe the strong emotions radiating from them. She's irritated –she wants his arms off of her. He's infatuated –he's willing to remain like this for the rest of the night. Differing yet intense emotions bore out of their eyes. Without verbally agreeing to his dance floor proposal, Erin simply unraveled his arms from around her waist and set her hand gently inside of his palm. It was all the approval he needed as he pulled her onto the dance floor.

Burgess sits at the bar –watching- while nursing her third glass of alcohol. One leg is crossed over the other and her heels dangle at the edge of her foot. Any second they'll fall off and she will happily accept it. She has a foot massage waiting for her when she gets home. She watches as the song turns to a slow jam and Tyler pulls her best friend closer into his arms.

"If you weren't married, and he wasn't a suspect for four homicides I would say go for it," Kim chuckles, "he's kind of cute," –she sticks the toothpick into her mouth and bites off the olive.

"He definitely gives off a Ted Bundy type of charm."

Erin finds herself smiling at Ruzek's comparison. He's comparing a homicide suspect to a known serial killer. She felt Tyler's hands slide down her back causing her skin to bristle at the touch of his cold palm. The small, almost unnoticeable hairs on her arms rise as a nervous shiver trembles through her body. The smile remains on her face, and she can see him clearly infatuated with it. His hands continue to slide down her lower back.

"If they go down any lower, I'm coming in."

Her husband's voice startles her and she immediately raises Tyler's hands back to her hips, "Keep them where I can see them."

"Erin," his lips move against her ear as he whispers, "if you could see what I'm thinking, you'd definitely be blushing right now." His words spark a rush of blood to heat and darken her cheeks. Lindsay was red in the face, but she wasn't blushing at the poor attempt of a flirt he tried to dish out; she was blushing at the fact that her whole team –including her husband- had heard. His words were whispered into the ear the listening device rested within and seconds following his attempt to seduce her, her ears were filled with chuckles from her team. Chuckles had actually come from all of them, except for Jay and Hank. She heard Voight clear his voice and almost immediately the chuckles stopped. Personally, in her opinion, it was a horrible idea for Mouse to plant a listening device in her ear; it was awkward and she knows this type of stuff makes her husband uncomfortable regardless of whether or not he'll admit it.

"Cat got your tongue…" his mouth remains near her ear.

"Actually," she nods, drawing her head as far away from his mouth as possible, "yes. You have me speechless, which is a really hard thing to do. You're definitely charming."

"And very persuasive," he added as his hands squeezed tightly against the fabric of her dress that was wrapped securely around her flesh, "I have a question."

Her arms drape over his shoulders, "I may possibly have an answer."

"How do you feel about living on the edge and taking chances? Taking risks that could probably end very badly?"

The tips of her fingers trace the back of his hairline, "I'll try anything once; twice if I like it."

"Now that's what I call flirting Lindsay," she hears Ruzek applaud through the earpiece.

Only knowing him for almost an hour, Lindsay had already had their suspect wrapped around her finger. He was charmed with her; if it was possible to fall in love at first sight –if he even believed in that crap- then he was definitely enamored. Their hips rocked to the slow beat of the music; Tyler's groin occasionally pressing against hers, forcing her to plaster an irritated smile against her face in her efforts to pretend she's enjoying the contact.

His eyes stare into hers –he's completely smitten, "I just want to kiss you right now."

"…a little direct, huh?" She retorts, chuckling off his comment.

"When I want something, I go for it."

"So Jay," Atwater's arm is thrown around Halstead's shoulders, "how does it feel to hear someone going for your girl?" He's joking, but Jay doesn't find it funny.

"I'm not jealous if that's what you're asking."

Ruzek flashes him a look of disbelief, "I don't know if I believe you. Kim and I have been dating on and off for a year now and I would definitely be jealous if something like that were going on."

"Well the difference is Adam," Jay turns to his best friend and plasters a grimacing smirk onto his face, "she's my wife. At the end of the day, she's coming home with me. This is all an undercover act. She knows where she belongs when this is all over. I don't feel threatened. I have no reason to be. I trust her. And she's doing her job."

"We should get out of here," they tune back into the conversation at Tyler's suggestion.

Erin stops dancing –a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "We should."

"Are you jealous now?" Atwater jokes earning a hard glare from Voight. This was not the time to be joking. With the quick shove of the arm, Hank points at the surveillance video, "Shut it. They're on the move."

Burgess sets down her unfinished drink and hops off the barstool. Her drink becomes an afterthought as she watches Erin and Tyler walk off the dancefloor. Kim can tell he's eager; he's overly excited. The second she heard Erin agree to leave he had her hand in his and was practically pulling her off the dancefloor. Erin listens to the orders Voight gives to her through the earpiece; try to get Tyler to go left when leaving the club instead of right and lead him towards their surveillance van. If they were going to question him, they wanted to have him surrounded so he couldn't run and they wanted him to be as far away from civilians as possible so he couldn't try to hurt one of them or use them as leverage to get away. Erin feels Tyler's arm snug her securely against him as they walk through the completely filled parking lot. It's cold outside, but Erin chooses against voicing her thoughts on the temperature; it may cause him to try and hold her closer or drape his jacket around her shoulders. She wants to keep the contact to a bare minimum. She wants to get this over with so she can go home with her husband. Erin pictures Jay's arm around her when Tyler pulls her up against him even tighter.

"You're shivering."

She rolls her eyes, "I'm fine."

Erin feels Tyler's hand slide down her back before briskly sliding along her arm to take a secured hold of her hand, "I'm parked over here." He tugs her in the direction of his car.

"I'm parked that way."

He looks at her –he really looks at her and without any complaint he nods, "Your car it is."

Erin didn't bring her car –she rode over with Halstead straight from the district. Jay had his keys and he was currently in the surveillance van. She didn't think this far in the plan. All Lindsay knew to do was lead Tyler to the police van and then hopefully her team would take it from there. Erin slips herself from his hold and decides to walk ahead of him –she can tell he's watching her. His eyes are trailing up and down her body; he's objectifying every portion of her. And if it meant he would continue to follow her so they can bring him down, then so be it. He quickens his pace as he hears her pull out her car keys. She had to keep up charades. They were her keys, but they didn't go to any of the cars in the parking lot.

"I hope you guys are ready." Erin mutters into the dark night; she doesn't see the surveillance van yet. They're still parked spots away –out of their line of vision.

"We don't have eyes on you. There's no surveillance outside. We'll approach when you get him by the van. We don't want to draw too much attention just in case he's not our perp. We wouldn't want to scare the real one away."

Lindsay was prepared to respond to Voight; she actually had her reply ready, however at Tyler's tug of her arm, she's forced into silence. She doesn't want him to hear. It's too early for him to know that he's about to be surrounded. No matter how annoyed this man made her, she had to continue; she needed to keep up with the charade.

"You know," he turns her around in a swift motion; it's quicker than she has time to process, "I am going," he grips her waist and hastily flushes her chest against his, "to rock your world." Jay rolls his eyes as he listens. He's probably the only one more ready for this undercover operation to be over –he's ready for his wife back. He absolutely hates assignments like this.

"No no," she raises her finger and bites down innocently upon her bottom lip. Tyler was leaning in for a kiss; it freaked her out. Raising her finger as if she was scolding a disobedient child was the first instinct she had and with that finger she pressed it against his lips and pushed his face gently away. To her it was a rejection, but to him, it was her playing hard to get.

His lips puckered and pressed against her finger, "You're such a tease."

"No, not really…I just don't prefer making out in the middle of a parking lot." It was the first excuse that came to Erin's mind and she had to just go with it. She had no intentions of kissing him. The fact that he already kissed her finger had her weirded out. With her finger still pressed against his lips, she sees Burgess trailing behind; she's pretending to be on the phone and she's acting as if she's drunk, stumbling over her own feet and slurring her words.

Tyler chuckles after following Erin's line of vision; they're both watching Burgess. He actually thinks she's really drunk and her stupor is entertaining to him. He laughs loudly as he throws his arm back around Erin's shoulders, "Let's get out of here."

"So, Tyler," her arm wraps around his waist and they continue to walk in the direction of her so called parked car, "do you come here often?"

"I don't come here more than usual."

She laughs in confusion, "What does that even mean? How often is that?"

"Let's just say I'm a frequent visitor."

"How frequent?" She looks up at him.

"Frequent enough to know that this is your first time here."

This draws in her attention; her brows rise, "And how do you know that?"

"Because you're beautiful;" his answer was obvious; he speaks it as if she should have already known his reply, "there's no way in hell I would have missed your beautiful face if you've been here before. I'm positive about that."

"Do you pick up girls every time you go?"

"…only the sexy ones," He chuckles, earning an elbow to his ribcage, "Now, what's with all the questions?" His arm drops from her shoulders and her arm unwraps from his waist, "What's taking so long? Where's your car? Are we going to have fun or not?"

"Now who's the one asking all the questions?" Erin asks, jingling the car keys in her hand and quickening her pace in order to walk ahead of him, "Patience Tyler. All good things come to those who wait. My car is parked right over there." She points at the one car parked directly beside the surveillance van. It wasn't hers. She actually had no idea who the car belonged to, but it was the closest to the van and all she really needed to do was get him as close to the surveillance van as possible.

Burgess is casually leaning against the side of the building. She's pretending to take a phone call outside –requesting a taxi. It's all an act. She's just watching Tyler and Erin as she fumbles through her keys. Tyler sees her; he watches Burgess as she watches Lindsay, "What's taking you so long? The chick over there keeps staring."

Erin stops looking through her keys and looks up to crossly eye Tyler, "What did I say about patience?" She asks in a sing-song voice; it's flirtatious and light.

"You're taking a pretty long time. How many keys do you even have on that thing?"

Erin rolls her eyes; the impatience evident on her face. She turns away from the car and faces the van; he's close enough. She knocks on the van's window, "guys, seriously any day now."

"Who are you talking-"

Before his question could be finished or an answer could be given, the van's doors slide open. The front doors burst open and the woman leaning against the wall of the club pretending to be on her cell phone rushes over. It's as quick as a flash. Chicago PD is shouted out of each of their mouths –in unison- their faces stoic as they completely surround him. One second, he was about to have fun with the hot brunette he met in the club and the next second, he's surrounded by people with guns. Out of fear and instinct, his hands fly into the air and he immediately backs away. His body soon enough comes into contact with another, and he turns to see it's the woman who he was planning to spend the night with; it's the woman who had him wrapped around his finger from the moment he treated her to a drink.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sorry Tyler," he hears Erin say as she grips her badge; it was attached to a chain around her neck, but hidden underneath her dress with the club's beads masking the silver chain, "We need you to peacefully come with us. You're a suspect in our case."

"Suspect?"

Olinsky chimes into the conversation, "Mind coming to the station to answer a few questions?"

"This is a big misunderstanding."

Ruzek's grip around the handle of his gun tightens as he growls at the suspect, "How so?"

With his hands still raised in the air, his eyes scanned the surrounding detectives before settling upon Voight. He didn't know him, but he could tell he was the boss. Everything about Voight screamed that he was the one giving the orders; he was the man in charge.

"I don't have a weapon on me," Tyler informed Voight as his right hand slowly lowered and dug into his pocket, "I'm just getting my credentials."

Hank holsters his weapon and steps forward, "Your credentials?"

"I'm Detective Tyler West," he informs, withdrawing his own badge from his pocket, "I'm here investigating a case as well."

"Oh yeah, where's your backup?" Jay questions, keeping his weapon raised and pointed.

"It's an off the books undercover assignment." Tyler says it in spite as he feels the sergeant of the team snatch his badge away. He was verifying the validity and legitimacy of it.

"You usually try to take women home during your undercover assignments?" Halstead retorted the second Hank handed Tyler back his badge.

Tyler winks at Erin, "Only the pretty ones." Jay catches it.

"What district are you from?" Voight asks; his hands stuff into his back pockets. He doesn't trust people right away –badge or no badge- it doesn't make him automatically trust anyone.

"District 19"

Olinsky holsters his own weapon, "You're definitely out of your comfort zone."

"Anything for the job"

Tyler instantly relaxes the second the remainder of the team holsters their weapon. His tense shoulders loosen as each weapon is locked away back into its strap against the detectives' hips. Each set of eyes –including the pair of the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen- were resting upon the sergeant. They were waiting for his orders; ready to act out whatever demands he made.

"So if I were to contact your district and ask them to verify your undercover assignment, they would know what I'm talking about?"

Tyler nods his head to answer Voight's question, "Yeah, well it depends on who you ask; like I said, this is an off the books assignment."

Hank hated indirect answers; indirection made him feel like someone was hiding something. He didn't feel like rustling through the weeds to distinguish what's true and what is not. He had his team. This was their case. They didn't need help. Voight turns his back to Tyler and grabs the handle of the driver's side door –he's ready to get out of here, "This case is in our district."

"The first body was found in mine."

Voight was so close to getting into the surveillance van and driving away, but Tyler's remark stopped him from stepping into the van, "You're not going to drop this case, are you?"

"I like to finish what I started." His eyes run from Voight –scans his whole team- and then settles on Erin, "I started investigating this case before your unit; I'm pretty sure I know more about this case than anyone." His words are desperate; he has no intentions of dropping this case, and after reading the exasperated expression on Erin's face, he turns back to face her boss, "We're all on the same side here. We should at least work together."

"I hate working with people I don't know. I hate working with other districts too. They don't run like we do."

"Well since I'm not dropping this case, and it sounds like you're not either, we've reached an impasse sir."

Hank slams the car door shut; he remains outside and sharply turns around to face Tyler, "My team is working this case and we'll take it from here detective; now if you would be kind and provide us with the files you have on it, that would be great."

"You want my files, you let me help. I want this guy just as bad as you do."

"I don't take orders from anyone."

Tyler's hands brush together before raising into the air to signal some sort of defeat or willingness to play by Voight's rules, "I just want to help. I'll work under you."

"I don't answer to anyone."

"This is an off the books case, you won't have anyone from my district to answer to."

Against his earlier wishes, Voight glares harshly before shoving his hand out towards the detective, "…then you're temporarily welcomed to our squad." West takes a hold of Voight's hand and his grip was stronger than he pictured for a middle-aged man; Hank initiates the shaking of their hands, "Be at the district by eight am tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

Hank snatches his hand away from Detective West and turns around to resume getting inside of the surveillance van. It has been a long day; it has been an even longer night and he was ready to start fresh tomorrow morning. Hopefully with Tyler's case file, they'll be closing the case sooner than later. The lives of other women and justice for the women who already died were at stake, and Voight vowed to protect this city and the people in it. He started up the engine as Mouse crawled into the passenger seat; a laptop opened on his lap. Without Voight having to tell him, he's already running a detailed background check on their new detective provisionally joining their team. Voight didn't trust everyone, but a clean background check would definitely help build the bridge towards trusting this guy.

As Voight sits in the car –beside Mouse-, Olinsky and Atwater climb into the back of the van. Voight was their ride out of there. West can see the sergeant's eyes glaring at him through the side mirror; he wasn't bothered. Tyler smiles and waves at the older man before turning to face Erin; she was the reason he's out here; it was a big misunderstanding, but they got over it. Tyler simply ignores the glare coming from their sergeant as he turns to face Erin –she's biting down against her bottom lip, "I guess we'll be seeing more of each other." Her eyes roll in response and he definitely doesn't take the hint, "I'm assuming that isn't your car and you didn't bring it," He withdraws his keys from his pocket and dangles them in front of her, "how about a ride?"

"Her ride is taken care of," it's all Halstead needed to say as he wraps his arms around her shoulders. He didn't need to hit the guy for continuously coming onto his wife. He didn't need to curse him out and embarrass him in front of everyone. He didn't need to do any of that because at the end of the day, he's the one going home with Erin. Halstead drove his car here, and with Erin's arm wrapped around the Kevlar vest strapped around his chest, she holds him close as he leads her towards his parked car –West watches them walk away. He isn't intimidated. He's isn't deterred; he enjoys a challenge, and everything great in his life didn't come easy. It's always the things you work for that offers the greatest reward. Tyler West knew that; he believed in that wholeheartedly. He's going to work this case with the Intelligence Unit, and he's going to make Erin fall in love with him. It's a given; women are unable to resist his charm and his good looks. So, as he watches them leave, he inhales a quick breath of air; tomorrow is a new day and new days offer new chances.

The ride home for Erin and Jay was quiet; it's always awkward after undercover assignments like this. The heavy weight of the flirtation between her and Tyler was thick in the air. It was the metaphorical elephant in the car. And when Jay parked in front of their condo without so much as a word or look her way, she knew he was bothered. He always tried to not act like he's jealous, but Halstead was human and he was a man; what man wouldn't get jealous when another man deliberately flirts with his wife? In Tyler's defense, he didn't know she was married –not that it would change anything.

"We can't go to bed angry," she says; following behind him as he walks up their front steps.

He shoves the key into the door, "I'm not angry."

"You're angry Jay," she responds, correcting his earlier tale. It was evident. The lack of eye contact, the constant avoidance of conversation and the stiff body language was all signs that pointed to him being angry at her.

Without another word, rebuttal or complaint, he unlocks the door. She walks in first, and before she could even broach the subject of Tyler, the front door is slammed closed, his arms circle her waist and his lips are pressed against hers. It was her favorite kind of kiss. Pull her tightly against his chest. Push her roughly against the wall. Kiss her passionately with no intention of stopping any time soon. She unclasps the Kevlar vest from around him; it's heavy as she pulls it over his head. Their lips disconnected briefly only to allow the vest to be taken off.

"You know," she whispers; her lips against his, "you should get angry more often." She's tugging aggressively at his belt buckle.

He pulls his shirt over his head, "I already told you," he grins; his lips hovering millimeters in front of hers, occasionally brushing with every word he says, "I'm not angry."

Her hands grip his face, "Whatever you are, it's definitely hot." She breathes out before pressing her lips back against his. Erin moans into the kiss as she feels her dress loosen around her; he unzipped her. She shimmies herself out of the dress and kicks it somewhere off to the side.

"…just don't make a habit out of it."

Her eyes are open wide; she's actually curious, "A habit out of what?"

"…making me jealous," he whispers; his lips falling to the dip in her neck and a graceful laugh radiates from her core. Soft kisses are tickling her neck as he trails them downwards.

Her hands rise above her head, allowing him access to whatever portion of her body he needed, "I don't like that guy," she admits; his lips ghosting over the pulse point in her neck.

"Let's not talk about that guy," he kisses her roughly; the skin on her neck burning with a pleasurable sensation. He's leaving his mark. He's claiming her as his own. She's his wife; she's his girl –no one else's.

Halstead temporarily relieves his reddening lips by removing them from her neck. Her eyes are closed, but they open the second contact is lost. She missed the feeling of his lips against hers. He reaches beside her and locks the front door; his other arm remained rested on her hip. He never once wanted to lose contact.

"You know," his free hand takes a hold of her chin; her lips are puckered, patiently waiting for contact with his, "Tyler was right about one thing."

"And what is that?"

"Your eyes are beautiful."

And with that, she doesn't wait for him to initiate the kiss; she aggressively does it herself.


	2. Pink Roses

Sergeant Platt takes each step up to Intelligence one by one; her hand sliding against the railing as she walks up. The young detective –dressed as a textbook fed- followed her up the stairs, and when they approached the top step she took in the sight around her. Mouse was typing away on the keyboard while staring intently at the computer screen, Olinsky was in Voight's office having a very loud conversation about their current case, Atwater and Ruzek were sitting in their desk chairs balling up paper and trying to toss it into a trashcan a few feet away, Burgess –who was promoted to detective a few months ago- sat with Dawson as he caught her up to speed on all of their open and active cases and Erin was sitting on the corner of Jay's desk with her head tilted back laughing loudly at something Halstead must have said.

Platt tucked her hands into her front pockets and rocked forwards and backwards on her feet; she cleared her throat when her presence alone didn't pull in their attention. Her hands withdrew from her pockets and she clasped them together as her head nodded in the direction of the newcomer, "This guy here says he's working on a case with you all."

"I didn't know the dress code was so," he looks around –obviously disgusted by the lack of professionalism in their wardrobe- his eyes set on Voight as he and Olinsky exit the office, "so casual. I thought you all would be dressing business professional."

"Yeah, we don't prefer to look like cops while we're out trolling the streets." Voight shuts his office door behind him before walking towards the detective, "Where's the case file?"

Before raising the thick manila folder in his hand, Tyler turns to face Platt, "It was nice to meet you Sergeant Platt," the detective extends his hand towards the woman of higher authority. Instead of shaking his hand, she rolls her eyes and heads back down the stairs. Detective West could only smirk at her lack of response, "Is she always so lovely?"

"…only to the people she likes," Burgess walks over and retrieves the file from his hands, "Oh, and I'm Kim by the way." She takes the file over to Voight and hands it to him.

"Tyler," he calls out to her retreating figure.

"Antonio Dawson," he hears a detective call out from behind a desk; his eyes never once rose to meet Tyler's, but he didn't care. He simply nodded at the man's introduction.

"Kevin Atwater," another detective raised his hand from behind a desk on the opposite side of the room. Once again Tyler didn't meet his eyes, but for different reasons; he spotted Erin.

"Al Olinsky."

"Adam Ruzek."

"Mouse," the name in this introduction does catch his attention. He pulls his eyes away from Erin and turns to their tech guy.

"Is that a nickname for something? How did you end up with the name of a rodent?" There's a smug look on the detective's face –it's a look that automatically irritates Mouse.

"I'm Jay Halstead," the introduction of Jay cuts in before Mouse is able to respond. He saw his closest friend's growing annoyance and if they were going to work with Detective West for who knows how long then they all needed to at least try and get along for the sake of the case.

Detective Tyler West nodded at Halstead's introduction –he remembered all of them from yesterday, and he more specifically remembered Halstead as the one who left with Erin last night. Tyler saw her; she's dressed in a sweater and a pair of jeans, sitting casually against the edge of Jay's desk, "And you beautiful?" Detective West asked; ignoring the creased brows of Jay as he watched their interaction.

"We already met."

"I only got your first name," he reminded, buttoning one button on his suit jacket. His posture straight and his head held high to portray confidence. Girls like confidence.

Erin sighs and stands up from her leant position against her husband's desk, "Erin Lindsay."

"Married," he saw her hand and the ring wrapped around her finger.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're married."

She follows his line of vision to see his focus on her ring finger, "I am," she nods.

"To him?" His eyes fall over her shoulder and rest upon Jay. Soon enough his eyes trail away and land onto the framed photo of her and Halstead on his desk.

Erin smiles and begins heading towards her desk, "That would be correct."

"You didn't have your wedding band on last night," he follows her.

"Well, I was undercover," Erin pulls her seat out and flops down into it, "I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have met if I had my wedding ring on."

"I have nothing against married women," his words earn the attention of every single person in the bullpen. They're surprised; Tyler is fully aware of her marriage and who her husband is and yet he still makes the conscious decision to flirt with her in front of all of them, including Jay. Tyler's back remains to everyone else as his eyes remain on Lindsay, "I like a challenge."

Her hands clasp over her lap, "Well, you'll have to find another. My marriage isn't a game."

"We'll see," he says casually; his eyes sparkling at the challenge set before him. He's infatuated. She's definitely not like the previous women who came into his life; she's different in a good way. She's fun. This back and forth flirty banter they do is fun to him.

"I'm Voight," Tyler feels someone grip his shoulder and turn him around; it's the boss from last night. It's the man who he suspected is the one who creates the rules and dishes out the orders.

Tyler smiles –he doesn't get intimidated; he never has. He takes a step back and adjusts his suit jacket, "No first name?"

"Just call me Voight," the sergeant retorts, setting the opened file down on Lindsay's desk, "Now, get us up to speed on where you are in the investigation and stop flirting with her."

"Yes sir."

Fun had to come to an end for now. He had a job to do. He had orders to follow and as of right now he had to catch the entire team up to speed on where he is in the investigation.

"We're looking for an Asian male somewhere between the age of 40 and 50," Tyler starts to inform as he walked up and down the aisle of the bullpen, "He targets women at the nightclub, torments them for a varying amount of time before killing them. My guess is the length of time he torments them depends on how much he likes them," Tyler tucks his hands into his suit jacket pocket as he continues to walk, "We are aware that he takes some part of his victims. The first woman, he carved out and took her tongue and carved off her lips. The second woman, he scalped out her hair. The third woman, he took off all of her fingers. And the fourth woman, he took her breasts. He removes the body part before strangling them."

"Those poor women," Burgess whispered; her eyes falling downwards to glance at her lap –she's avoiding eye contact, "He tortured them while they were alive." She has only been in the unit for a few months, but the amount of casework, open and closed cases and the sometimes sick minds of the people they question in the interrogation room are straining. It's like time is of the essence. They have to immerse themselves in the case just to catch this sick bastard as soon as possible –before he can target, torment and kill his next victim; before he can get away and flee from the city. They had to catch him in order to get justice for the families and for the lives he took away.

"Have any of the missing body parts been located?" Erin asks as she browses through the case file. Most of the information in the file they already knew, but there were a few key pieces of evidence inside of it that was new to her.

"No." Tyler responds as he turns to face her, "He must keep them for souvenirs or something."

"We locate the missing body parts, we locate him."

"…in theory, yes."

"How did you find all of this information out?" Skepticism is evident in Voight's question; his arms are crossed against his chest and his head is titled to the side in curiosity.

"I've been focused on finding him before he can kill anyone else."

"That doesn't answer my question." Voight didn't like Tyler –it was obvious. And his dislike for Tyler seeped into his trust for him. The only reason he agreed to work with Detective West was for the four women lying in the morgue –they're the only reason he agreed to his help.

"Don't worry about how I found out; worry about apprehending him. He'll keep doing this until he's captured. It's a game to him. Four women are dead. He wants to be caught; he just needs someone as smart as him to catch him.

Voight gives in, "So walk us through what you know."

Tyler smiles; he resumes his back and forth walk down the aisle of the bullpen. He ignores the overwhelming sound of Mouse typing and Atwater clicking his pen. He unbuttons the one button on his suit jacket before removing it, "Each victim regularly visited the club and during their visit must have met the perp." He sets his jacket down onto the nearest desk, "After speaking with family and friends, we know they were being tormented over a varying length of time," Tyler rolls up one sleeve, "The women received emails, got packages, were followed, and the list is endless. They went to the police, but it got them nowhere." He rolls up the other.

"So, he was playing games with them?"

"Yes," Tyler answers Voight's question; his sleeves remained rolled up as he tucks his hands into the front of his pants pockets, "He wanted them to know he was watching," his shoulders shrug, "It was all romantic gestures; he probably thought they could potentially be the one. They thought he was potentially the one and he used that against them."

Voight's mouth pressed into a straight line, "And you know this…how?" He's tense.

"I don't. I was just talking. Ignore that last part."

"…the part about the romantic gestures?" Voight questions as he scratches beneath his chin.

"Yes, it was all speculation; nothing to go on really."

Lindsay raises her hand, "So you really think that what you listed was even remotely romantic?"

"…think about it Erin," Tyler responds, turning away from Voight and sending the detective a wink of the eye, "wouldn't you find it romantic if a guy sent you presents, checked up on you through emails, was there for you in your time of need and did things to try and sweep you off your feet? You can't tell me that you wouldn't find any of that romantic."

"…not from someone I barely know."

Tyler shrugs, "Hmm, then I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."

"I guess we will."

Ruzek clears his throat –it's a clear sign that he has something to say next. When Tyler and the rest of Intelligence turn to face him, he leans back in his seat and sets his feet against the edge of his desk, "Let me get this straight; we have a perp who's looking for love."

"I guess you could say that."

Adam shakes his head in disbelief –his hands intertwined over his chest, "So we have a man who goes to the same nightclub looking for love and when he thinks he found it he tries to date them and when he realizes they aren't perfect, he kills them?"

"I don't know what changes in the relationship and why he kills them and it's possible he doesn't either." Tyler explains; he removes his hands from his pockets, "He could just like to kill. He could do it for sport or in the heat of the moment. It's up to us to find out."

"Regardless, this guy is sick in the mind."

Voight had no argument against that; however name-calling wasn't going to get this man caught. Investigating, locating and arresting him will; the sergeant stepped forward, snapped his fingers in Adam's direction before pointing towards Al, "Ruzek and Olinsky, take that case file," he points towards the opened file lying on Erin's desk, "and get me a warrant for the surveillance footage at the nightclub…maybe we can see our victims and who they came into contact with that night. I'm sure the footage will tell us something we're missing."

"We already have a description of him," Tyler chimed in.

Hank reaches onto Erin's desk to grab the file, "How do you even know the description of the perp Detective West?"

"Witnesses."

"Who are these witnesses?"

"I didn't record their names."

"So you don't know?"

"They wanted to remain anonymous just in case their names fell into the wrong hands."

Without further argument, Hank extends the file towards Olinsky, "Go get me that warrant." The second Al takes a hold of the file, he turns to face two of his other detectives, "Dawson and Atwater, I want you two to go talk to the family of the last victim. Find out who she went to the club with that night –even if they don't remember the name or description of the perp, maybe they can give us a race, height, hair color…something!"

"I said he was Asian," Tyler chimed back in.

"I know that." Voight nods as his team set out to follow through on his orders, "I know what you said; it's what you didn't say that has me curious. I need to know the witnesses otherwise we get nowhere." Hank is calm as he begins walking back towards his office, "Witnesses may not be the key piece of evidence used to lock this bastard up, but it's something. It's something we need."

"I'll work on it and see what I can find."

Voight opens his office door, "That's what I like to hear," Before stepping inside, he glances at his tech guy, "Mouse, when the warrant is issued, let me know." Mouse nods as his boss goes into his office; the door closes seconds behind his departure.

The boss was gone –detectives were sent out on orders. Tyler remained in the bullpen with the three detectives and their tech guy. He unbuttoned the top button on his dress shirt, before fanning himself; he was hot. He was the only person in the room who was hot; the temperature for everyone else was perfect. Brunette strands of hair slicked down onto Tyler's forehead as he grabbed a folder from the nearest desk –Ruzek's desk- to fan himself, "Is it hot in here or is it just me?" His joke falls flat on their ears; he has turned to face Erin, but her focus is on everything but him, "I'm telling you Erin;" the mention of her name earns her attention, "I'm an addictive guy, if you try me once, you're guaranteed to get hooked." Burgess almost chokes on her water. Her wide eyes turn to look at Mouse and they're both having a conversation without any words attached to it. Tyler practically offered himself up to Lindsay in front of her best friend and her own husband; he was confident –Burgess will definitely give that to him.

"No thanks; I'm not interested."

"Think about it," he encourages; there's a smug grin on his face. It speaks volume; it's basically saying that it knows she'll eventually come around.

Erin presses her hands together, "Look," her eyes are wide and there's not a hint of play in her voice, "don't let my sweet looks fool you Tyler; I have the mouth of a sailor and a zero tolerance for bullshit." She notices Mouse and Burgess pretending to fall into conversation in order to make the atmosphere in the room less awkward. Jay, on the other hand, didn't care about making things awkward. He watched –and he wanted Tyler and Erin to know he was watching. Lindsay looked down and pinched the bridge of her nose, "We're not doing this now, tomorrow, next week or ever. Leave it alone and let any idea of me and you together go."

"…that is what I like to hear," His response to her rejection has her confused; "You're definitely different than the previous women I've dated."

"You're here to help us with this case." Halstead jumped into the conversation; he's usually all for letting Erin fight her battles –since she seems to enjoy refusing anyone's help- but this time, Jay had to step in. He couldn't just continue to watch as Tyler blatantly flirts with his wife. Halstead's previous silence could have played a factor in why Detective West was being so pushy and persistent; maybe he figured since Jay wasn't speaking up, he didn't care.

"I'm fully aware."

"Don't cause trouble." Halstead points at him warningly.

"I wouldn't think of it," Tyler responded while ruffling up his damp and sweaty hair, "I'm just having a little fun." Sweat beads continued to drop from his hairline onto his forehead.

"Why don't you have fun with someone else's wife?"

"Come on," Tyler pats the detectives shoulder, "Jay, right? That's your name?"

"Yeah."

"I'm just poking fun. You're a guy. You understand."

"No, I don't." Halstead growls through clenched teeth before shoving Tyler's hand off his shoulder, "The only reason you're here is to assist us in investigating; stop playing games, especially with my wife."

Without further argument, Tyler steps back and throws his hands into the air in mock defeat. A smug grin is plastered on his face as he moves away from Halstead. Jay was red in the face –fuming. Tyler knew someone has had enough; he simply wipes his hands clean of the disagreement with Jay and turns back to Erin –the root of his argument with Halstead is clearly missed as he resumes his conversation with her, "Hey Erin," he smirks, "what's that on your neck?" He points towards the darkened shade of black –a bruise it looks like to him- on her neck. He isn't stupid; he knows what it is, but the look on her face and the immediate covering of it with her hands as she quickly walks off to the breakroom was priceless –he chuckles.

Erin walks into the breakroom and stressfully shoves one hand through her short, brunette hair. The other hand goes to her pocket and yanks out her cell phone. She immediately goes to the camera on it and turns the lens to face her; she's staring into her reflection and she hovers the camera over her neck.

"It's not that bad," she hears Jay say from behind her.

She shoves her phone back into her pocket, "Really?" There's a hint of annoyance in her voice as she turns to face him, "I covered this with makeup this morning. The collar of this damn shirt rubbed it off and you didn't tell me! I'm walking through this precinct with a hickey on my neck Jay! That's unprofessional and everyone's probably slut shaming me and thinking that I am purposely prancing around showing off marks from our sex life!"

"I doubt anyone is slut shaming you for a hickey caused by me, and it's barely noticeable Er."

She rolls her eyes, "Tyler seemed to notice it just fine."

"Yeah, well Tyler's an ass," Jay says it as if that explains why he was able to notice the hickey upon her neck; as if that's the common connection between being able to see it and not.

"I can't argue with you on that."

"I'm glad to hear that," the sarcasm in his words does not fall flat on her ears. She rolls her eyes at his mockery as he proceeds to go to the counter in order to get himself some coffee. Erin follows right behind him –the hickey on her neck a clear afterthought.

"What's wrong with you?"

He grabs the hot pot of coffee and pours it into his mug, "Nothing."

"You're mad."

"Of course I'm mad!" She jumps back when he unintentionally shouts at her; his mug of coffee forgotten as he slams it down against the counter. He takes a breath of air in order to calm himself down and his eyes glance up towards the ceiling in order to avoid her panicked expression, "I'm sorry for yelling. It's just…what man wouldn't be mad when another guy clearly disrespects his marriage and his wife by blatantly flirting with her in front of her own husband? He thinks our marriage is a joke Erin."

"Well, he's wrong."

"You need to make it clearer. Laughing and flirting back is only fueling his lust for you."

"I'm not flirting back!"

The sarcasm is back in his voice as he responds, "Of course you aren't!" He watches her storm towards the breakroom door and close it; they're both in silent agreeance that they want neither the team or Tyler to hear their argument, "You're barely saying anything! And if you don't defend our marriage, he's going to think it's a big joke. I don't know about you, but I take us, our vows, our life together and our love for one another serious."

"I do too."

Another calming breath is released out of his mouth, "I honestly can't tell."

"I don't know what you want me to say that I haven't already said!" Erin exclaims wrapping her arms behind her back and leaning against the closed door.

"I shouldn't have to get involved; you should be defending our marriage!"

"I made myself perfectly clear to him!"

"He thinks it's a game!"

She pushes herself away from the door and untangles her arms from behind her back, "Are we really arguing about a man we met less than 24 hours ago? Is he really worth the argument?"

"He's not worth the stress," Halstead agrees; he finally acknowledges his hot mug of coffee as he lifts it up and blows away the steam radiating from the scorching cup.

The coffee burns the back of his throat –he's usually not a straight, black coffee drinker, but this was the best substitute he had for alcohol. It was strong, bitter and one must definitely have an acquired taste for it. After one sip, he sets the mug down; his hands grip the edge of the counter and seconds later he feels Erin's arms wrap around him from behind, "There's absolutely no reason to be jealous Jay."

He's staring down into the black coffee, "I'm not jealous."

"Well then whatever you are stop it." She rises to the tip of her toes to kiss the back of his neck; she draws back and pulls her arms away afterwards, "It's not cute. Tyler is unimportant. You have nothing to worry about Halstead."

Jay stares forward at the bland cabinets hanging against the wall, "He flirts with you like I'm not even there. And it really pisses me off."

"Voight told him to stop."

"He obviously didn't listen to that."

Erin tugs onto the fabric of his shirt; she gently yanks him around, "You're my husband Halstead; I love _you_."

"I don't doubt that," He responds; his back leaning against the edge of the counter, "I don't doubt it at all. I love you too and I trust you, it's just him I don't trust when it comes to you."

"We haven't even known him that long."

"I'm just ready for this case to be over so he can go back to his district."

Jay's hands surround her wrists and he pulls her in close. She's just grateful this whole argument is over –she hated arguing with him. Her head is resting against his chest and her eyes peacefully close as his fingers comb through her shoulder-length hair. She feels the rhythm of his heartbeat against the ear that's rested against his chest; they're content. They can truly stay like that all day, but the second a hard knock beats against the door followed by the door being opened, they knew that their temporary solace was over.

"Hey," Voight leaned inside of the breakroom, "using West's case file got us the warrant for the surveillance footage at the nightclub." He fully steps inside, "I need you two to go meet Ruzek and Olinsky at the club to retrieve the footage and talk with the staff."

There is no argument; this is their job. Erin pulls away from Jay completely and heads out of the breakroom. Halstead empties the remainder of his coffee down the drain as he hears Voight approach him, "Is everything okay between you two?"

"Everything is fine," Jay sets his mug down in the sink, "I'll wash that when I get back."

"Is it Tyler?"

"It's nothing I can't handle," Halstead gives his father-in-law a kind smile as he backs out of the room, "Once we solve this case, he'll be gone."

"You're right!" Voight calls out; he wanted Detective West gone just as much as Halstead, "for right now, we need the help, but the sooner we close this case, the sooner he's out of here!"

Halstead grabbed his jacket draped from over the chair. He enjoyed the silence. Tyler was nowhere in the vicinity and his absence was definitely not missed. Once Erin grabbed her jacket, the two began proceeding down the stairs of the unit.

"Lindsay!" Platt calls out as soon as the gate is shut behind the couple. Erin meets the sergeant's eyes and she instinctively waves over the young detective –her husband trailing closely behind, "I only called Lindsay."

Jay got the hint, and after furrowing his brows, he turns to face his wife, "I'll get the car."

"Okay," Erin hands him the keys, "but don't get any ideas; I'm still driving!" Lindsay smiled when she heard her husband chuckle –much hasn't changed since the two got married. She still calls the shots, she still drives –most of the time- and she still runs most things. Erin grinned as her husband disappeared out of the precinct, but the smile slowly faded when she turned back to face Platt –her face emotionless and stoic- Lindsay's brows rise, "Okay, the way you're looking at me has me nervous," Erin crosses her arms on top of the sergeant's desk, "What was so secretive that he couldn't hear?"

"These came for you," Platt responds; she reaches below her desk and pulls out two dozen pink roses each set wrapped and tied with white ribbon.

"When?"

"…early this morning. I didn't want to say anything because," Platt nods her head in the direction Jay disappeared through, "…you know."

"Yeah," Erin sighs; she unfortunately did know. She gave the sergeant an appreciative smile because after her earlier argument with Jay, she knew these roses would spark another. Erin lifted up one set of the flowers, "These are pretty. Who are they from?"

"A card didn't come with it," Platt answers, watching as the detective gazes at each set. She hated to accuse or insinuate, but Platt needed to know, "Erin, you know I don't judge," a look immediately crosses Erin's face –it's a yeah right kind of expression, which forces Platt to tweak her words, "Okay, you know I don't judge you, but is everything okay? You know…in your marriage? Are you happy?"

"Very," Erin retorts, pushing the flowers as far away from her as possible, "Sergeant, you have the wrong idea. I'm not having an affair."

"If you were-"

"I'm not," Erin refused to entertain the idea; she would never cheat on Jay. She couldn't even imagine doing that to him –doing that to them. He meant entirely too much to her. Lindsay felt her cell vibrate in her pocket –it was probably Jay rushing her. She swallowed hard, "You can throw those in the trash."

"They're so beautiful."

Erin backs away from the sergeant's desk, "…then you keep them."

Platt picks the two dozen pink roses up; her wedding band shining on her ring finger as she holds the bouquet of flowers. She brings the roses close and takes a hard whiff of them, "its two dozen pink roses handpicked and delivered from the florist Erin. Someone paid a lot of money for these; it'll be a waste to throw them in the trash."

"Well, this person should have thought about that before sending flowers without a card or at least a name attached." Erin pushes the door of the main entrance open.

"…maybe it's from Jay," Platt retorts; she unravels the decorative tissue paper from around the stems being mindful not to prick herself on the thorns, "…maybe he wanted to surprise you? Or maybe he forgot to get a card attached?"

Erin shakes her head and before departing for good, she responds, "He wouldn't have forgotten. He definitely would have had a card attached. Look Sergeant, I really have to go. I have to serve a warrant and retrieve surveillance videos. Do what you wish with the flowers. They're yours." Lindsay gives her one last grin before leaving, before plastering a smile onto her face, before hopping inside the car and intentionally lying to Jay when he asked what Platt needed to say to her. She wasn't going to let pink roses –of all things- spark an argument in her marriage. And sometimes ignorance is bliss; not knowing something can sometimes benefit you in the end. Knowing every little thing –no matter how small, mediocre and unimportant- could possibly hurt you. She wasn't doing anything wrong, so why purposely hurt him, anger him or make him jealous? It was probably roses from a family who she helped. It could have been an incorrect delivery. There are millions of possibilities for the roses and none of them were important enough to get her husband involved.


	3. Party Beads

For the sixth time in two days, Mouse's eyes involuntarily shut. It was a lack of control; it was all out of his hands. The exhaustion that living off of coffee while staying awake and alert for two days had his whole brain on autopilot; he honestly had no idea what he was doing right now. After retrieving three months' worth of surveillance footage from the club, he had dedicated his time to analyzing every second of it. He watched every frame –second by second- in search of the victims and the people whom they've come across that night.

Mouse jumps awake when Voight's hand taps against his desk, "You've been combing through this footage all day and night for the last two days. You haven't found anything yet. How about you go home, get some rest and come back tomorrow afternoon with fresh eyes to resume looking through the rest of the surveillance?"

"I'll give you a ride home; it's on the way," Dawson offers as he pulls out his car keys. The entire team pulled a double all-nighter. They were tired of being stuck in the same place they've been since they were handed this case so they decided to band together and figure something out. Mouse grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and waved at the team, "We'll see you guys tomorrow," Dawson called out; tossing a wave of the hand over his shoulder as he departed down the stairs of Intelligence.

Voight turned to face the remainder of the team –all of them just as tired as the two who recently left. He didn't want to dismiss the rest of the unit until they put every piece of information they had together. Hank approaches the whiteboard, lifts a marker and begins writing down the names of each victim. After jotting down the last name, he grabs the marker top, "Before we leave, we need to go through everything we know about each victim." He places the marker top back on before using it to point towards Halstead and Lindsay, "you two," they both look up, "you were the ones who questioned the family of the first victim; Michelle Danvers," he read her name off the board, "Tell us everything all over again as if it's our first time hearing it."

Erin rose from her desk chair, "Michelle was a recovering alcoholic; med student. Her family said she normally tried to steer clear of clubs and basically any place that has a bar."

"Her family and friends didn't even know she went out that night," Jay added, while leaning back in his desk chair –his hands resting behind his head, "They only knew that she met someone she saw herself having a relationship with; she talked about him nonstop, but never mentioned a name. They don't even know an exact description; all she described him as is hot, nice, sweet, funny, cute, so on and so forth. She broke her sobriety for him."

"We don't know that," Tyler interjected; he shoves his hands into his pockets and begins pacing; it helps him think, "I think she broke her sobriety before she met him. Her family said she tried to stay away from places that have bars yet she went to the nightclub. She was already going to break her sobriety."

Erin walks around her desk and approaches the whiteboard, "Michelle was tormented the longest out of our four victims. As far as we know, she told no one but the cops. She didn't want her family to find out about it. Before killing her, he cut out her tongue and cut off her lips."

Burgess scratched below her chin in thought, "The first victim was tormented for two weeks before he killed her. The second victim was tormented for three days. The third victim was tormented for one week and then the fourth for six days." Erin nods. And it pushes Burgess to continue, "The timing doesn't make any sense. There's no pattern anywhere. Someone these women don't even know preys upon and then kills them."

Erin shakes her head as she walks back to her desk, "It's possible she never made the connection that the person tormenting her was most likely the man she was 'dating'."

"How do you know it's him?" Tyler questioned; he remained pacing the aisle of the workspace.

"Everything points to him;" Erin replies; after crossing her arms, she takes a seat on the corner edge of her desk, "she meets him in a club, she tells her family and friends nothing solid about him, she starts to get tormented and when the police said there was nothing they could do, she most likely went to him for protection and comfort; she most likely ran into the arms of the man who killed her. And she didn't even know it until it was too late."

"How does he decide when to kill again?" Voight asks, "There's no pattern here," he points to each date written under the victims' names on the whiteboard, "He kills, takes a break for a differing amount of time and then kills again. What's his motive? What drives this guy?"

Hank grabs the DMV photos of each woman and tapes them above their written name on the whiteboard. His hand presses each photo down to ensure it sticks and after pulling his hand away Tyler stares. The chattering around him is lost as Detective West focuses on the images of each victim. He's not paying any attention to what's being said about the case as the smiles on the victims' faces hold his focus; his mind is warped into a distant daze of imagining the victims. Erin is the only one who notices his silence; she notices him staring at the photos with his mouth agape, "Hey," she rises from her leant position against her desk, "are you okay?"

He snaps out of his daze, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Tyler laughs and directs his gaze towards her, "Yeah, and if you keep asking I'm going to start to think that you're beginning to care about me." Their side conversation remained undetected due to the discussion currently being held in the room.

"Just don't," she muttered in response; she moved from his side and went back to her leant spot against the corner edge of her desk. This time her arms are crossed over her chest and a hardened look crosses her face. She tunes back into the conversation to hear that the subject has moved onto the second victim and her family and friends.

"You two," Voight points at Burgess and Ruzek, "you spoke with the family of our second victim; Claire Montgomery. What do you have for us?"

Kim looked to Adam to figure out who was going to speak first; he remained silent, so she used that as a hint to start it off, "From what we gathered, she was the polar opposite of Michelle Danvers. The only thing they have in common besides the party beads found around their neck was their physical features; brunette hair, physical build and white skin. They're not even in the same age range. Claire is ten years older than Michelle."

"Michelle was 23 and Claire was 33," Adam chimed in, earning a roll of the eye from Burgess due to his minor add-in to the conversation.

"Anyway," Kim directed the focus back to her, "our second victim was a lawyer at the public defender's office; she went out with a friend to the club, the friend got drunk and doesn't remember anything from that night. It's all a blur to her."

Halstead's eyes were on his partner; he watched her shift uneasily against the edge of the desk. She looked uncomfortable; she looked as if she got a whiff of something horrible. Her face gagged, but she fought to keep a stoic expression plastered onto it. She sensed his eyes on her and turned to meet his; she read his orbs, and she nodded her head to ensure him that she was fine. To divert his attention off of her, she raised her hand in order to chime into the discussion, "She was killed three days after going to the nightclub." Erin reiterated an earlier point, "Something obviously changed in her relationship with our perpetrator."

Jay nodded to back her up the second Voight's confused expression settled on her; his hands clasped and he leaned forward and added, "He killed the first victim two weeks after she went to that nightclub, but he kills the second victim only three days afterwards. There's something we're not seeing. I don't know what, but something definitely changed."

"We find that out, we get one step closer to figuring out who did this," Ruzek asserted, earning another hard look from Burgess; physically he was here but mentally he was somewhere else.

"…maybe it's the lack of sleep," Voight shouts; snapping his fingers to earn the undivided attention of everyone in the bullpen, "but I need for everyone to focus. The sooner we lay everything out and discuss it, the quicker we can go home and get some sleep. Atwater," he pointed towards Kevin, earning an immediate straightened posture from the detective seconds after calling his name, "you and Dawson spoke with the family of our third victim; Linda Foster. Remind us again what you and Antonio found out."

Atwater sits up in his seat and sets the pencil his fingers were playing with down. He clears his throat as he recalls the information he and Dawson discovered, "Linda was a hairdresser going through a divorce from her husband. She was 40 so her age doesn't tie her close to the previous victims," he clicks the back of a random pen he lifted from his desk drawer as he thinks back to the conversation he had with the victim's family weeks ago, "Her sister took her to the club to get her out of the house –and away from the kids- to have some fun. She was looking for a rebound. Her sister got a text from her saying she was leaving with a man; the sister never saw him. That's all we got," Kevin snapped his fingers immediately after his last statement; he remembered something else, "She was killed a week after visiting the nightclub."

"Okay, so what about the first woman had her tormented the longest?" Olinsky questions while rubbing the skin beneath his chin in thought.

"If we find that out, we get another step closer," Voight remarked, sliding his hands into his front jeans pocket; he glances up to the board and stares at the picture of their fourth victim, "Al and I talked with the family of our fourth victim; Amanda Scott," Hank notices Erin continuously shift in discomfort; her face is flushed green and seconds after he notices, she stands and rushes off into the direction of the restroom; he continues, knowing she was going to be fine, "She was killed a week ago and after her death, we were brought in to take over the case. From what we were able to find out, she was unemployed and the only reason she was at the club was for an interview with the manager," his eyes meet Halstead's when Erin walks back to her desk as if she was perfectly fine –this was the fifth time in two days she ran off to the restroom, "She must have met our suspect while she was there," Voight decides to continue; he knows Erin, and he didn't want to draw too much attention to her, "After six days, she was killed."

Jay's eyes once again meet Erin's and behind those same eyes she reads what he's asking. He's just making sure she's okay. Her face was flushed, but she nods anyway; her nod implying that she's fine. When his eyes remained focused on her, she shifts in her leant stance against the edge of her desk, "Do you," she clears her dry throat; she couldn't keep anything down –not even water- clearing her throat was the only method to ease the dryness of it, "Do you think they're being killed dependent upon the assailant?"

"What do you mean?"

"…what if the women aren't doing anything to change the relationship?" Erin rises to her feet to answer Voight's question; her hands moving around to articulate her point, "What if something just snaps in our perpetrator, regardless of how long they've been seeing each other?"

"He didn't date the fourth victim at all," Olinsky added in a portion of the story that Voight had accidentally forgotten, "Her family said she was a lesbian."

Burgess shrugs as she offers an alternative, "He probably sought to woo her off her feet and when he was getting nowhere, he snapped," she nods to back up her point, "…maybe he hates rejection."

"Our first three victims didn't reject him," Halstead reminded.

"I don't know then…" Kim's hands disappointedly fly into air, "It doesn't add up."

Voight snaps in Halstead's direction, "How far did Mouse get in scanning the footage?"

"There are so many people in the club that it's hard to spot our victims; not to mention the lighting is horrible, it's hard for facial recognition to scan anyone so Mouse is doing it by his own eyes." Jay explained; throughout their two day all-nighter, he had been the one to always check in on any updates from Mouse; Halstead struggled to suppress a yawn as he continued, "When he rests up, he's coming back to finish combing through it."

"I guess we should call it a day," Voight covered his own yawn; his eyes water from the strain and exhaustion of it, "We all need to rest up and come back fresh tomorrow; nobody is any good when we're all running on a lack of sleep."

It was all the majority of the team needed to hear before grabbing what they could carry and departing from the precinct. It was in a matter of seconds –minutes to be more accurately. While the remaining few –Halstead, Voight and West- grabbed their jackets and keys, Erin simply stood and took a seat behind her desk.

"I dismissed the team kid," Hank asserted, and when she made no effort to move, he continued, "Erin, you can go home. We all worked tirelessly these last two days; go home and sleep."

"I want to stay here a little longer," without looking up to make eye contact she replied; Lindsay opened a copy of the file Tyler had initially brought over when he first started working with them. She eyed the water bottle at the corner of her desk, but looked away the second her stomach growled. Tyler's ears perked at the noise. No one else seemed to catch it.

Hank leaned over her desk and closed the folder, "Go home. Get some sleep. And if you're still sick tomorrow, stay home until you're feeling better."

"Hank," she immediately rises to her feet, "I'm fine."

"You're not."

"…yes I am," she muttered in affirmation.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Voight's question silences her and any response she may have planned to retort, "No, why? Because you can't keep anything down, can you?" Hank wasn't stupid; he could read her like an opened book. She couldn't hide much –nothing at all- from him.

"Just let me look over these case files; I need to think about this case. There's something in here," she slams her hand against the closed folder, "there's something here that we're not seeing. I just want a second of solitude to see if I can find it. I won't be here long. I promise. And once I go home, I'll eat and go to sleep and if I'm not feeling well tomorrow, I'll stay home."

She was stubborn. Voight knew that no amount of arguing would persuade her to leave now. Against his better judgment, he nods his head, zips up his leather jacket and leaves. Erin releases a breath of relief; Hank was always the hardest to argue against; he was just as stubborn as her yet he chose to give in for the benefit of both of them. Tyler leaves next and she's grateful that he can see she's not in any kind of mood to flirt and banter. Her eyes fell to Jay looking at her and in front of him was her water bottle sitting comfortably at her desk's edge. While her body was telling her no, Lindsay's brain was telling her yes. She swiped the water bottle from the corner of her desk and chugged down the remainder of its contents.

"Jay you can go home too," she states, pulling the empty water bottle away from her mouth to speak properly, "we both shouldn't go without sleep."

"I'm staying with you."

Her head shakes, "go home. I want you to rest."

"Erin-"

"We drove separate cars into work two days ago for a reason." Erin had always planned to stay later than the team; sometimes it's when she worked best. She wanted the peace and quiet.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"…an hour tops; go home."

"Call me when you're on your way."

She salutes and smiles, "Yes sir."

Jay leans over her desk to peck her lips, but her head turns and he's forced to brush his lips against her cheek. She chuckles as he pulls away seemingly hurt. Her hands fly into the air in apology, "I puked five times in two days. All I had to clean my mouth out with was water and gum. You don't want to kiss me; trust me." Halstead chuckled and kissed the side of her head.

"Don't forget to call me."

"I could never," she blew a kiss and waved him off. The sound of Jay's deep laughter fades away as he departs down the stairs and out of the unit.

Once silence surrounded her, she smiled and cracked open the file. Laying each document out in front of her, the top of the highlighter pulled off, Erin began reading each piece of evidence and highlighting the portions that stood out to her. Linda Foster's husband said the day before she was killed they had a conversation about reconciliation and were looking into going to marriage counseling. She highlighted it. Whatever changed in each victim's life either the day of or before they were killed she highlighted. Michelle Danvers broke her sobriety. She highlighted it. Erin grabbed a sticky note and jotted down a reminder –look into whether or not there have been any more deaths of females that match their victims' description that were found strangled and with a missing body part. She'll have Mouse look into that. It's strange for their perpetrator to just start killing out of the blue. Four victims in two months; there was a possibility that there were more. It's possible that it didn't even start in Chicago; he could have started somewhere else and moved to Illinois, if so, they had to find him because there would be no stopping him from moving on to another state.

When her mind goes blank –she's stuck in thought- she feels forced to look up and stare at the photos of each woman taped up on the whiteboard. Each woman was smiling; short brunette hair, slim frame and white in skin. She fit that description. Burgess fit that description. There were a lot of women –in Chicago alone- that fit that description. Anyone could be next and they had to find something before he struck again. Lindsay stuck the sticky note onto the corner of her desk –a reminder for tomorrow. She grabbed another and began jotting down the questions that immediately entered her mind; what was his motive, why did he kill some victims sooner than others, why does he take body parts, what determines which body part he will take –she ripped off that sticky note, attached it to her desk and then grabbed another- what made him snap, who is he, where did he come from, and when is he going to strike again? Erin looked up in thought; Tyler said the man was Asian and between the age of 40 and 50. Voight stripped that piece of information from evidence due to a lack of witness testimony; he wanted to start from scratch with no bias and misinformation in the mix.

Erin looks up at her empty water bottle; it wasn't much of a substitute for food, but it was definitely something. She grabbed the bottle, rose from her seat and headed towards the water fountain. She needed to at least stay hydrated until she got home to put some food in her belly. Lindsay balanced the opening of her water bottle under the pour of fountain water as she thought about the case. The club played a huge factor in solving it. Every night, the club hands out party beads to the entering clubbers; they're neither plastic nor cheap, but they're bright in color, hard in material and spikey in shape. They were specially made with the club's logo on them. The party beads provided the most solid evidence that linked all the victims together. Erin felt the water overflow from her bottle and soak her hands; she releases the water fountain button. She shakes her soaking wet hand to sprinkle off as much water as possible; the remaining drips of water on her hand she wipes it against her pants leg.

Lindsay takes a small sip of water as she guides herself back to the bullpen of the Intelligence unit. Leaving the room empty, but returning to find company, she pulled the water bottle away from her lips and sighed, "What are you doing here?"

Tyler grabbed an empty chair and pulls it to the side of Erin's desk, "I brought dinner," he points towards the brown paper bag sitting on her desk, "I figured you were hungry."

She shakes her head, "I'm sick."

"Stomach virus I assume?" He replies, opening the brown paper bag and withdrawing the containers of food from it, "It's why I got you some soup and saltine crackers. You need something that you can keep down." He pushes all of the files back in order to have space to set her food down. He waves her over, but her hesitance earns his full attention.

"No thank you."

"Come on Erin, it's just food." He pulls his own container of food out of the bag, "I know you're hungry; your stomach has been growling all day. Eat something."

She thinks quickly on her feet; she is hungry and she does need to eat something. She was planning to find something in her fridge afterwards, but if she ate now, she can just go straight to sleep when she got home. Erin reveals a small smile as she nods her head and walks around her desk to take a seat, "Thanks."

Tyler simply gave her the slight nod of the head as he opened his own food. He watched her lift the lid of the plastic bowl of soup; the overwhelming aroma of herbs and flavors swarmed their nose from the chicken noodle soup. It nauseated her stomach, but not enough to run to the restroom. To calm the nausea, she grabbed a saltine cracker and nibbled upon it.

"Do you always stay to work late on cases?" Tyler asked, grabbing a fork to dig into his food.

She dabs the cracker into the soup, "…not normally; only when something bugs me about a case. I hate unanswered questions. And this case really needs to be solved; we don't know when he'll strike again and that really unnerves me. We can't keep the city safe with him out there."

"Did you make any big discoveries?"

"…not really; I got more questions than answers." She takes her first spoonful of soup and while she fully expected it to have her running off to the bathroom, it settles her nausea.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think," she pauses to give her the opportunity to take another spoonful of soup, "I think he wants companionship –that's what my gut is telling me. However, if he wants companionship, why kill them off? That's what I'm stuck on. That's what confuses me. I don't know."

"Do you think he enjoys it?"

"Enjoys killing?" She questions for clarification; he nods, "I don't know. And I hate not knowing. It's all speculation. Why does he take parts of their bodies? That's what boggles my mind. He sloppily takes a body part –basically leaves the area the body part was at mutilated- and then leaves their bodies peacefully in an opened field. Is it because he feels remorse? Why destroy parts of their body, kill them and then leave them looking angelic and surrounded by pink," Erin hesitates; she cuts herself off, pushes the rest of her food away and leans forward to grab another sticky note.

"What is it? You just thought of something."

"Platt isn't here," Erin asserts, grabbing the nearest pen, "Two days ago, I received pink roses."

"What about them?"

"Their bodies," after writing down a reminder, she sticks it onto her desk next to the sticky notes full of questions, "They were found in opened spaces; parks and gardens. They were found surrounded by pink roses. I received pink roses two days ago."

"Oh, throw that away," he rips the sticky note from her desk and balls it up.

"Why?"

"I sent the roses," he answers, watching as she turns back to resume eating.

"You didn't leave a card."

"I didn't think you would accept them if I did."

"I didn't accept them because I'm married. Why did you send me flowers?"

"It was a peace offering."

"We weren't feuding."

"…just forget it," he resumes eating.

"Tyler-"

"Erin, just forget it."

And she does just that. She drops it. She can tell he's ashamed –more likely embarrassed. She never made the connection that they came from him and her first thought after she remembered how the bodies were found was that they came from the perpetrator. It made sense why they didn't. Why would he send her flowers to work? Why would he even know where she worked? She grabbed her empty food bowl and the balled up sticky note and walked towards the trashcan. She had plans to nibble on the saltine crackers if her stomach started to bother her again. Erin tossed the garbage into the trash and used her now free hand to cover up her yawn. Her eyes glance at the clock, and she's been here a little over an hour; she told Jay she'll leave after an hour so she knew that was a sign for her to start getting ready to head home. Erin slowly, and carefully, walked back to her seat and bumped into the back of Kim's empty desk chair, "Sorry."

Tyler looked up at the sound of her voice, "Huh?"

"I should be heading out," Erin replied, making her way back to her desk, "It's definitely time for me to get out of here when I start apologizing to a chair I bumped into," she smirks to ease the silence in the room, "I'll see you tomorrow." All she does is close the folders and grab her jacket and keys.

"I'm looking forward to it." Rejection certainly did nothing to deter Tyler; he waves and chuckles when he sees her bump into Kim's chair again, "Be careful."

"It seems bumping into things is a part of my regular routine," she joked, and the sound of Tyler's laughter fills the bullpen as she walks down the stairs, "Bye Tyler."

Erin walks down the stairs and exits out of the gate; she sends the nightshift sergeant a nod of the head as she bid him a farewell. She walks out of the building and a whipping breeze blows through her hair; it's chilly. She zips up her jacket as she trudges towards her car. The blinking streetlight flicked a glimmering light overhead her vehicle; she sees it parallel parked, freshly shining with a flattened tire. Her pace picks up as she rushes towards her car, "Are you serious?" Lindsay stoops low to feel around the tire; hoping that it had enough air in it to get home. It was flat, filthy and unstable. It probably wouldn't even get her off the street. She pulls her hand away and discovers traces of dirt lining her fingers; she sighs. These last two days just have not been her greatest. Erin uses her clean hand to grab her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and speed dials her husband, "Come on Jay," she's still stooped low with her cell pressed against her ear. She sighs the second the beep on his voicemail signals for her to start talking, "It's me. I have a flat tire. You must be sleeping so nevermind. I'll just call a taxi." she hangs up.

"Is everything okay?"

Her soul almost jumps out of her body from the sudden voice behind her. Erin straightens her posture and turns to face Tyler, "you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"What's wrong?" He glances down to get an answer for himself, "That's unfortunate. Do you have a spare tire? I can change it for you."

"No spare tire," she sighs; her clean hand pressed stressfully against her forehead, "and I'm honestly too tired to be worried about this right now. I'm going to figure this out tomorrow."

He pulls his keys out and dangles them in front of her, "Well…come on then."

"That's okay. I'm fine."

"You're stranded." Tyler affirmed, waving his hand in the direction of her flattened tire, "What are you going to do? Walk?"

"Call a taxi."

"You would rather ride with a stranger than with me," Tyler unlocked his car door from his position beside her, "Come on Erin, I won't bite." He begins walking towards his car and the second he opens the driver's side door, he hears her sigh and approach.

Lindsay slides into the passenger seat of his vehicle and immediately buckles her seatbelt. Tyler adjusted himself; buckled his seatbelt, started the car, rolled down his window and turned to face her as much as the restriction of the seatbelt allowed, "Put your address into my GPS." Erin leans forward and types in her address as Tyler pulls out of the parking spot. In his peripheral vision, he watches as she carefully and sleepily types in her street name; her tired eyes squinting as she reads the bright screen.

"This is nice." He admits, once Erin sits back –done with entering her address.

Her head leans back against the headrest and her eyes are closed, "What's nice?"

"…just everything."

She peels open her eyes when the car stops at a red light. She needed to stay awake just in case Tyler got lost or started to doze off. She needed him to stay awake and in order to assure that, she needed to remain awake. Erin's hands rested in her lap, and she's staring down at the one clean one and the completely opposite dirty one, "I need a napkin."

"Check the glove compartment."

Erin leans forward and pulls it open –a few party beads fell out the second it unlatched, "How often do you go to that nightclub?" She chuckles, grabbing a few napkins before stuffing the party beads back into the compartment.

"I told you I go frequently," he grins.

She wipes the napkin against the dried dirt on her fingers; she's scrubbing the dried dirt away and particles of it fall onto her lap. Once finished, she balls the napkin up, shoves it into her pocket and then resumes her earlier position, leaned back against the headrest with her eyes closed. After releasing a deep breath, she reopens one eye and looks in the direction of Tyler, "I'm so tired." Erin takes her cell phone and sees zero missed calls; she sets it down into the car's cup holder.

He gives her a wink of the eye, "My place is closer."

Both of her eyes are open, and she turns to face him, "Whatever you're trying to suggest, just stop."

"I'm just saying; I can be the mistake you want to make tonight."

"The only mistake I made was coming into work today." Her face flushes as she feels nausea build up; she forgot her crackers at work, "I feel like I'm going to be sick." One hand grips the handle of the door, and she covers her mouth with the other.

"Don't puke in my car," he begged.

"…then I suggest you pull over."

Without wasting any time, Tyler pulls over to the side of the highway. They just turned onto it, and haven't made it far, but her exit was two exits down. Fortunately, many cars weren't out so it wasn't hard switching lanes and pulling off to the side. The second he pressed down onto the brake, she unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped out. Tyler placed the car in park and stepped out; cars barely passed them on the highway, and those that did were either traveling or going to or from the late shift at work. Other than that, the highway was empty.

"Erin," he quietly walked around his car.

"I'm fine."

She was stubborn and he may not have known her long, but he could tell she hated to be pitied, cared for or comforted. Tyler didn't care though; he watched strands of her hair fall forward to cover her face and obscure her vision; she was trying to puke in private, but he wouldn't let her be. He continued to walk further, and when he approached her side, he leaned forward to pull those strands back, "Is this better?"

"Stop," she swats him away; her hand wildly waving him off.

Tyler lets her finish handling her business and uses his time to grab a few napkins out of his car. As he counts out a few napkins, he sees her phone light up; Jay was calling. Tyler looked over his shoulder to see Erin still throwing up and by the time he looked back at her phone, the call was ended. Three missed call notifications lit up the phone. Tyler shuts the passenger side door and walks back towards her. His head is turned in a different direction when he hands them out to her. The sounds of her emptying out her stomach grossed him out; he hummed to himself to smother the vomiting noise. She draws back when she finishes, "Thanks," she takes the napkins from him, turns around and sits down against the guardrail, "I haven't been able to keep food down. I knew I shouldn't have eaten anything." She buries her face into her hands the second after wiping the corners of her mouth. Everything she just ate was out of her system.

He takes a seat next to her, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Erin asserts, dragging her hands down her flushed face, "You didn't force feed me."

"I'm a persistent guy though."

She smiles, "No arguments from me on that."

"Sorry."

"You've apologized to me twice in the last five minutes," Erin divulged, partially shifting her body to face him, "There's no need."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, I'm just really enjoying this fresh air. I don't know if it was the stomach virus, the food or the car ride that made me queasy just now, but this is nice."

He dramatically inhales the scent of fresh air, "It is."

Erin continued to enjoy the fresh and unpolluted air; it cleared her mind and eased her tummy. In her peripheral, she can see Tyler watching her as she stares up at the nightly sky. She felt him slide over –closer-, and she immediately whips her head in his direction, "Don't think anything of this," she warned, pointing her finger at him as if she were scolding an insubordinate child, "You have a way of seeing things that isn't there."

"That's going to be my fatal flaw." Tyler laughs in response; it's a short chuckle. It's one that isn't filled with humor but contains gloom and desperation, "The girls I date seem to think the same. I just need to find me the perfect woman; someone who is like you Lindsay."

She turns her head to find him still staring at her, "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm definitely not perfect. I'm a bit rough around the edges."

"People seem to think the same of me;" he whispers as his fingers trace an invisible pattern onto the guardrail; he can sense her looking at him –observing everything he does and every expression he makes, "they think I can be a bit aggressive, persistent and sometimes I can lack a little remorse. People always think the worst of me."

"It's okay to let people think whatever they want about you; just don't offer them any proof to back it up," she advises; her hand pats against his back in the most friendly and platonic way possible. She wanted to offer an ear to listen, but she didn't want to give him any ideas or lead him on. It's a shame that nowadays being friendly is sometimes mistaken for flirting.

"I just need to find my perfect match."

"Maybe you should take a break from dating;" Erin offered an alternative possibility, "be single for a while, there's nothing wrong with that."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." He growls, immediately sliding away from her; the space now between them is the most it has ever been since she met him, "I just need someone who cares about me; all my life I've been around people who didn't."

Erin stands up; she's slow and careful as she takes two steps to approach him, "Well walk away from anyone that doesn't care about you and surround yourself with those who truly do."

"When I meet people who do," he looks up to find her standing right in front of him, "then I'll take your advice."

"I'm sure someone cares about you."

"No. Thanks for trying, but no. It's just me."

She shrugs in return, "Sometimes that's all you need." Erin is trying to make him feel better and is thinking of the positive in his situation.

"…coming from a person who is surrounded by people who care about her."

"Touché."

Lindsay continues to stand in front of his seated form. His hands hold onto the guardrail as he adjusts his bottom against the highway railing. Behind him is trees and who knows what animals of nature, but all of that was an afterthought as she remained in front of him. Her arms crossed over her chest, resting overtop of her nauseated and seemingly plump tummy. He gives her a kind smile and scratches the back of his neck in awkwardness, "You're really lucky, you know?" His eyes stare at her crossed arms, but focus more specifically on the wedding band wrapped around her ring finger, "You found that person who you want to spend the rest of your life with; it isn't so easy for people like me."

"People like you?"

"…I'm very complicated."

She extends her hand and sets it upon his shoulder, "You'll find that special someone."

"And what happens when I find her and she discovers just how complicated I can be?"

Erin drops her hand down his shoulder and squeezes his forearm encouragingly, "You fight for her." She squeezes it again.

"I fight for her," his eyes settle on her hand wrapped around his forearm. To her it was innocent, but to him it meant a lot.

His eyes fall to her hand and eases up her body before settling on her eyes. The two made eye contact and she was the one who broke it. Her head turned away, she stepped back, removed her hand from his forearm and wrapped her own arms around her body. Erin sat back down beside him and stared down at the grass and dirt –doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact, "I can feel you staring at me."

"Is it making you uncomfortable?"

She clears her throat, and embarrassingly turns to face him, "Yeah, it kind of is."

"I apologize for that. It wasn't my intention."

Another silence falls over them and for the first time since they've been sitting outside, she sees two cars drive by. No one was speaking. No one wanted to break the silence and as time continued to tick on by, Erin chose to interrupt it, "Tyler, it's getting really late, we should head on out of here. If my husband wakes up and sees me not beside him, he's going to get worried."

"Will your stomach be okay?" Tyler stands up and he eyes her tummy in concern.

"It's going to have to be."

He extends his palm, "Can I hold your hand?"

"No thanks, it's not heavy."

"I mean can I hold your hand to help you up?"

She chuckles and sets her hand in his, "You're a sly fellow." The second he pulls her back to her feet, she removes her hand from his hold.

From their pulled over spot on the highway, her exit was two exits down. She watched the passing trees and road signs until they turned off of the highway. Her eyes fluttered occasionally fighting through the urge to doze off and fall asleep. She must have lost the battle for a brief moment because the second she reopened her eyes, Tyler was pulling in front of her house.

"Thanks for the talk," he said, placing the car in park.

"Anytime," Erin replied, unbuckling her seatbelt before stepping out of his vehicle, "And thanks for the ride Tyler."

"It was my pleasure."

She's out of the car, but her head is tilted to see him behind the wheel, "You're not so bad Tyler," she smiled and shut the passenger door; he rolled the window down afterwards, "…maybe I misjudged you."

"Trust me when I say it happens all the time."

Lindsay waves, but he doesn't drive off. Once she enters her house is when she sees him drive away. Erin shuts and locks her front door. She leans her forehead against the white frame and sighs loudly. It's quiet in the house. The only sound she can hear is from her kicking her shoes off her feet and to the side of the walkway. Erin didn't turn on the light; she knew the house enough to make her way down the hallway and up the stairs. The only thing she wanted to do was sleep. Her bedroom door is wide open and she hears heavy snoring radiating from the room. Jay was asleep, he was sleeping hard. As quiet as she possibly could, she grabbed her pajamas and changed into them. The second she was finished, she crawled into the bed, spooned her body behind Halstead and swung an arm around his waist; her face nuzzling into the back of his neck.

"I called you back," she hears him whisper; his hand covers the arm she has wrapped around him and the two cuddle closer together.

"Oh, sorry I missed it." She responds, her voice just as low as his; the pitch of it is filled with grogginess and exhaustion, "My car got a flat tire so I got a ride home," she squeezes him tighter and pecks the back of his shoulder, "I'm not feeling too great so I probably won't be going into work tomorrow."

"Okay."

It's quiet, and she continues –wanting desperately to get this off her chest, "And Jay…"

"Huh?"

"Thanks for caring about me."

This draws in his attention. He rolls over; her arm no longer around his waist, but his was now around hers as they lay facing each other, "Of course." He pecks the corner of her mouth before closing his eyes.

"I love you," she reminded, laying her head against his uncovered chest.

His arm pulls her in closer, "I love you too."

And with that, all felt right in the world. She had him and he had her. Sleep overcame her easy due to the lack of worries she had in this cold world. As long as she had him, the cruelness of the world they live in, felt nonexistent.


	4. Vintage Ring

Time seems to fly by when your days are consumed with catching a serial killer –especially one who is calculating and is most likely progressing with every day that passes. It has been two weeks since their double all-nighter. A little over three weeks since Detective West joined their unit. The Intelligence unit was handed this case almost four full weeks ago, yet they're just as stuck as the detectives who was initially investigating this case. Voight's detectives had been running all over the city with their metaphorical heads chopped off in search of some type of lead no matter how small. They needed something to get them from point A to point B; they needed something to at least lead them into bringing a suspect in. They were nowhere and it was frightening. How is Voight supposed to go in front of reporters and their cameramen and tell the city that they're safe when he wasn't sure? He didn't believe anyone was safe, but he didn't want to deliver fear and terror to the people of Chicago; he just wanted them to be vigilant, and if they saw something, he wanted them to say something. That was his message.

Voight backed away from the microphones and turned to walk back into the precinct. It was a last minute afternoon press conference. There was no description he could provide the public, but he did send out a cautionary warning to the city. Sergeant Platt walked alongside him back into the building, and before opening the door, he turned to face her, "How do you think that went?"

"I think you did your best with the information you had," she assured and gave him a nod of the head when he opened the door for her to enter first.

"We really need something," Hank replied, following behind her up the precinct's stairs, "He has managed to evade police for who knows how long –Mouse has been looking into the sticky note Erin left. If Mouse manages to find out that the four women in Chicago weren't his first victims, and he's been ducking police for years, then we definitely have a problem, a mastermind and career criminal on our hands."

"We're going to nail this bastard."

"I hope you're right."

Platt buzzes him upstairs, "I'm always right sergeant."

Hank walks up the stairs and finds comfort in seeing all of his detectives working. Mouse has dedicated his time into looking into the information Erin left on a sticky note. He has every intention of going back to combing through the surveillance, but he wants to make sure their perpetrator hasn't struck in another state first, because if he did, they can contact that city's police to see if they have something they're missing. They can request for those case files to be faxed to them, and looking into those files would give the other detectives something to do while Mouse goes back to searching through the horribly filmed surveillance videos. The remainder of the team has spoken with the victims' family and friends countless amount of times, and neither conversation led them anywhere closer to the truth. All they could do is wait –wait for Mouse to find something. And there's nothing worse than waiting and having nothing to do while there's a serial killer on the loose.

Voight silently walked through the aisle of the unit's workplace in his quest to approach Halstead's desk. The younger detective was leant back in his swivel chair –texting most likely Erin on his cell phone. She hasn't been into work for a week. Hank would frequently call her, but since they have gotten nowhere in their investigation, he hadn't had the time to visit. Most of his time had been focused and spent solely on the investigation and the press –the reporters had a way of hackling the unit in search of news to tell the public. They were looking for the next great story or plot twist to tell while being completely oblivious to the dangers that arise by popularizing the killer. Since being handed the case, Voight was busy doing damage control.

"Erin is still not feeling good?" Hank asks, leaning against the side of Halstead's desk, "I'm starting to get a little worried; this is not like her to miss work, even when she's sick. I usually have to order her to leave this place…maybe it's worse than we thought. Where is she?"

"She had a doctor's appointment early this morning; I offered to go with her, she declined. I'm actually waiting for a text from her, she was done at the doctor's hours ago," Jay explained, setting his phone down, "Last night she told me the nausea was a little better; it's not completely gone, but she isn't vomiting every day. She's still fatigued and a little cranky, but she's usually cranky when she's not feeling good so that's nothing new."

Voight smirked after slightly chuckling at Jay's last comment, "When you get into contact with her, tell her to call me."

"You can tell her yourself," Jay whispered, rising from his seat, "she's here."

Hank turns around and finds himself surprised; he's surprised to see Erin here at work, smiling, holding two boxes of pizza in her hands. She sets the pizza boxes down on the edge of Mouse's desk, "Hi everyone; I brought lunch. Dig in." It was all Erin needed to say before the majority of the unit rushed towards the fresh and hot Chicago style pizza.

Voight walks over to her, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to finish helping out with the case," she replied, reaching over Kim's shoulder to grab herself a slice of pizza, "Burgess has been keeping me up-to-date on the investigation. I know we haven't made much progress."

Hank side eyed his newest detective, "What did she tell you?" His arms crossed over his chest as Kim backed away and went to go eat her pizza in the breakroom.

"She went back undercover at the nightclub this whole week and you all went in as backup so she wasn't inside alone. Kim talked to a few men and some other men bought her some drinks, but nothing came of it. It was just regular men hitting on a beautiful woman."

Erin takes a bite of the slice of pizza; a few drops of tomato sauce sprinkled onto the side of her mouth, "oh my gosh this pizza is amazing," she reaches over the boxes and the second her hand touches the top napkin, another hand brushes upon hers. Her eyes glance up and are met with the brown eyes of Detective West –he's smiling at her and when he winks, she pulls her hand away. The act of grabbing a napkin was completely forgotten along with the two small sprinkles of tomato sauce against the corners of her mouth.

West and Lindsay remain oblivious to Halstead's glaring gaze. Tyler simply grabs a napkin and holds it out to her, she chuckles as she takes a hold of it and dabs it against the food participles, "This is embarrassing."

"Don't be," he pats her shoulder before turning to face Mouse, "any updates?"

Her eyes stare down at her shoulder; his hand slowly pulling away from her, and they lose contact within seconds. Her half-eaten slice of pizza rests in her used and wrinkled napkin, and before she can either listen in to what Mouse has to say or sarcastically comment on his hand being on her shoulder a little too long, she feels her hand being grabbed and her body gently pulled off to the side.

"I don't want to argue with you at work," Jay whispers into her ear; the couple standing in between file cabinets, talking low amongst themselves to ensure the team didn't hear.

"…then don't."

"We talked about this last night."

"No," she says through gritted teeth, "you talked about it; more like yelled about it, and I couldn't get a word in."

Jay brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I don't like him touching you." Even when they're arguing, they still manage to unintentionally find themselves doing little brushes of the hand, caresses of the face and the occasional strand of hair being pushed behind the ear, "it isn't a coincidence that he reached for a napkin the same time as you, and he didn't even end up getting one. He gave you the one he grabbed." His hand remained against the side of her cheek.

"It was an accident – a mere brush of the hand that was unintentional."

"What about the shoulder touch?"

Erin squints at him in disbelief, "You're kidding me, right? Jay, you're being ridiculous."

"Our rate of arguing has increased since he came into the picture."

"No, it increased since you started acting like a jealous idiot."

He draws his hand away, "At home, we're fine. We hardly ever argue. It's here when there's trouble. It's here because he's here. Ever since you met him three weeks ago, things haven't been the same. You can't stand there and pretend like they have."

"Tyler likes me, yes, I agree, but what do you want me to do?" Erin exclaims, throwing her hands into the air; her voice reached a higher pitch, but it was still low enough to guarantee her coworkers didn't hear, "We have to work with him until this case is over. I'm not seeing him behind your back. I'm not sleeping with him. Nothing is going on between us. Jay, you have to trust me! I don't see him like that. I'm married to you. I'm loyal to you. I love you," she steps back and runs her hand down her face, "So stop acting jealous Jay, it can destroy. Just cut it out."

"I can't just cut it out!" His voice is loud; he forgets to control the pitch. It draws in curious glances and side-eyes from their coworkers.

She steps back to make sure no one is paying attention. After assuring herself that everyone was too engrossed either in the investigation or eating pizza, she steps forward –hiding herself and her husband between the two file cabinets, "Are we legit doing this right now with our coworkers' feet away eating pizza?" Her arms cross as she makes her point.

Every day that she stayed home due to her nausea, was another day that Tyler would ask –more like pester- Jay out of worry for Erin's health. It was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel's back because every day that Jay came home from being hounded by Tyler's concern for his wife sparked another argument to brew between them the second he would walk through the front door. The three weeks since they met him had been rough. Without him even knowing, they've argued more the past few days than they did all of last year. He was the main subject of conversation –if Erin brought him up Jay would get mad, so Erin settled on never being the one to mention him. Now as they stand, hidden between two rows of file cabinets, their home arguments have obviously trickled into their work life. This wasn't a conversation to have here. This was a conversation to continue when they're at home –away from the prying eyes and nosey ears. This was a conversation to have when Tyler was far away from Jay's presence. He and Tyler have barely spoken any words to each other since their first introduction, but Tyler's name had been uttered out of Jay's mouth more times than he would like to admit.

"Fine, you're right," Jay sighs, giving in immediately; he didn't want to argue about it here either –not when it's a possibility that someone, more specifically Tyler, could overhear; he didn't want the man to have the satisfaction in knowing that it was him who is the subject of their argument, "we'll save this conversation for later, how was your doctor's appointment? What did the doctor say?" It was his attempt to change the topic of discussion.

"I don't want to talk about it here; not now; not when you're like this," Without another word and another glance in his direction, she walks away.

Detective West hears Erin's name being called; he watches her deliberately ignore her husband. When she walked in, she was smiling –beaming from ear to ear, but after speaking privately with her husband, any hints of the smile that was once plastered across her face was gone. No one besides Tyler was paying any attention as she stormed back into the bullpen, grabbed her empty water bottle and disappeared down the hall to refill it. Against his better judgment, he sets his empty napkin down –he initially grabbed it with the intention of taking a slice of pizza, but when Erin and Jay disappeared, his curiosity got the best of him and the pizza and his current growling stomach became an afterthought. His napkin forgotten, the thought of pizza was at the back of his mind and the occasional growl in his stomach overlooked as he followed her.

Tyler turned the corner to see Erin relentlessly, hardly and consistently hitting against the water fountain button –her face is hard as she patiently waits for her water bottle to fill up. She doesn't notice him standing feet away. He's nervous –he has never in his life been nervous about approaching someone. He taps the side of his head; he's thinking about what to say as he cautiously approach her, "How was the doctor's visit?"

She releases the fountain's button, "Is that really any of your business?" Erin turns around to face him, her back leaning against the water fountain.

"We're friends," he reminds.

Erin turns back to resume filling her water bottle back up, "We're not friends; we're…temporary coworkers. That's all."

"I'm going to pretend like that didn't hurt," Tyler chuckles to lighten the mood as he takes his hand and jokingly covers his heart, "How did you spend your time off –besides resting, recuperating and ignoring my phone calls?"

"Online shopping,"

"Why didn't you go out to the mall? Get some of that fresh air you like so much."

"Because apparently it's socially unacceptable to be in a mall with no bra, sweatpants and a nice, hot slice of pizza in your hand," she retorts; once she finishes filling up her water bottle, she takes a sip before screwing the cap back on.

He hadn't spoken to Erin in a whole week; their last conversation was the night he dropped her off at home. His calls she sent to voicemail. He talked himself out of visiting. He chose to just be patient and wait for her to return, and now that she's back, he finds their conversation lacking the flow it once had all the first two weeks. She's looking at him –knowing he wants to say something, but lacking the courage to do so. Tyler looks over her shoulder to meet her husband's eyes; he was about to walk into the breakroom when he spotted Tyler. He didn't want to act out, especially after his earlier disagreement with her. Jay struggled to wipe the glare and frustration off his face; he didn't want to be one of those husbands. He didn't want to be the territorial husband that wouldn't allow his wife to talk to other men. He trusted her. He needed to remind himself of that –he may not trust Tyler when it comes to his feelings for Erin, but he trusted her. That was important. That was the reason he was able to blink the glare out of his eyes and continue on into the breakroom without doubting his wife and whatever she's saying in response to the bullshit that's most likely spewing out of Tyler's mouth.

"If looks could kill, I would be dead," Tyler joked, playing off the look he was given, "Your husband just glared at me. What did I do?"

"You keep hitting on his wife; what do you expect him to do?" Erin responds; she chose to tell him the truth because she was never the one to lie, especially if it would do more harm than good. He had been the subject of countless arguments between she and her husband; Tyler really needed to stop, "You should be lucky he's not kicking your ass."

"Your husband hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Erin remarked, unscrewing the cap of her water bottle, "He doesn't particularly like you, but he doesn't hate you. That's a strong word." She takes a small sip.

"Erin, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that he hates me –absolutely despises me."

"Well, look at it the way I look at people who highly dislike me. The more people who hate you, the less people you have to please."

Tyler shrugs and maneuvers himself beside Erin to lean forward and take a sip of water from the fountain. It splashes against his lips and droplets trickle down his chin. He takes the back of his hand and wipes it across his mouth, "I could only wish to adopt your way of looking at life," he smiles; the corners of his mouth piercing in.

"It didn't come easy," she admits, while running her free hand through her shoulder-length hair, "I didn't have the best childhood."

"I didn't have the best life; well I don't have the best life. It's not past tense; it's present."

"Your life can't be that bad."

"Want to bet?" He responds, holding out his pinky, waiting for hers to wrap around it, "I grew up being bounced from foster home to foster home."

She doesn't offer her pinky as a seal to the bet, "Are we seriously comparing childhoods?"

"I knew your life wasn't that bad."

"My dad is in prison."

"Voight isn't your-"

"…for all intents and purposes he is; he and his wife took me in and raised me as a kid." She answers his question before he has a chance to fully pose it.

"I was in and out of juvie when I was a kid."

"I did drugs."

"I sold them," he retorted.

"I covered up a crime."

"I committed one."

This does spark her curiosity, "What kind of crime?" Both of her hands are wrapped around her water bottle and her head tilts to the side in interest.

"That's a story for another day Mrs. Halstead," he says her married name in mockery.

"What?" She rolls her eyes in nonchalance –overlooking his obvious sarcasm he used when saying her married last name, "Did you drive over the speed limit?"

"Nice try," he responds, patting her shoulder, "You're a detective Erin, I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out," his hand slowly slides down her arm and when his hand brushes against hers, she pulls back, "Now, are you going to continue or admit that my life sucks?"

"My mom is and has always been an addict; you name it, she probably was and is still addicted to it," Erin continues; overlooking his flirtatious gesture in her quest to beat him at his own twisted idea of a bet –even though neither had anything to lose, they never expanded on the bet.

"My parents died –they were murdered."

"I'm sorry." All playfulness, sarcasm and any hints of mockery were gone from her voice. This wasn't how she expected this conversation to go. This time, it was her who placed her hand reassuringly on his shoulder, "I'm so sorry Tyler."

"They were abusive assholes."

She drops her hand, "…I'm still sorry."

"I guess I win."

There's a frown on her face, "It shouldn't be a competition." The frown line creased into her forehead deepens when he shrugs off her sadness for him.

"Don't feel bad for me," He responds; his arm flings around her and pats her back –it's a friendly gesture, "Everything that happened to me led me to this moment, right here, right now, with you." She didn't expect to smile or laugh, but she did. He was obviously confident in his ability to sweep her off her feet. Erin steps out of his reach when she sees Jay exit the breakroom, coffee in hand and a scowl across his face. She's about to walk towards him, but she immediately chooses against it. She chose to end the conversation last time because it wasn't the right time, now isn't the right time either. Erin tunes back into the conversation to hear Tyler whisper, "You should smile more; it looks really good on you."

"Only you can manage to flirt after divulging the traumas from your childhood."

"What can I say? I'm a man of mystery."

"That you are," she agrees; Erin is talking to Tyler, but her eyes are on Jay as he talks with Burgess, "You're definitely a mystery and I'm not sure whether I like it or not. It's creepy, eerie, but it definitely has me curious. You're one strange fellow."

"Ouch."

"It's the truth," she laughs, holding her hands up in admittance, "The truth won't always be nice, but it's still the truth. And I'm certainly going to figure you out."

"That's why I'm here; I'm counting on it."

"Nice conversation we had," Erin responds, straightening up the second she sees Jay make his way towards them, "now Tyler, there's pizza out there and if it's one thing about those guys is they will inhale all of it in a matter of seconds. I suggest you go eat some."

He squeezes her shoulder once more giving in the second his stomach growls and betrays him, "See you back in there."

The smile on her face falters as she realizes Jay noticed the shoulder squeeze. She wasn't necessarily trying to hide the fact that he did it –he touched her- again, she just didn't feel like arguing with her husband about a man who was neither her husband nor a threat to their marriage. Tyler is gone. Her water bottle is almost empty; she had been subconsciously drinking it as she watched her husband walk over. She wasn't trying to hurt him or prove a point. She wasn't trying to make him jealous. She was just trying to be civil with a coworker. If Ruzek, Dawson or Atwater touched her shoulder, he wouldn't even bat an eye, but the second Tyler so much as looks her way, he automatically gets on the defensive.

"You two seem pretty chummy," he sounds normal; Jay doesn't sound upset. His hands are in his front pockets and he rocks back and forth on his feet as she turns to fill up her water bottle.

"He's not that bad. I judged him before really getting to know him."

"And you know him now?" He asks inquisitively; a gust of air leaves his mouth as a hitch of laughter pokes through the second she nods, "He's been here for three weeks. Erin you haven't even been here for this whole third week, how did you get to know him so well?"

She opened her mouth –prepared to speak and tell him about Tyler taking her home the night she had a flat tire, however Voight's booming voice called out her name. She sighs, sets her hand on his shoulder and slid her fingers up to the back of his neck. Her soft fingers gently tangled in his brunette locks as she eased her forehead against his.

They remain like that –even when Voight calls out her name again. Neither move. Erin's eyes are closed as their foreheads continue to press against the other, and her heart fluttered sending a chill through her body as her lips tingled the moment his pressed against hers. She allowed him to kiss her at his own speed – gentle, steady, calm and unrushed. Neither was in a hurry even though Voight was currently in the bullpen calling her name. As their lips tenderly moved and molded together, her fingers came undone from his hair and they soon found themselves cupping his face. This was the man she fell in love with; this was the man she married. He was her partner, her best friend, her lover and her husband. He was her world; he wasn't the jealous, territorial type, he was the loving, compassionate and gentle person that she devoted herself to six years ago.

Jay quietly moaned at the gesture as his arms wrapped around her waist; he flushed her body against his. Tyler may have been the cause of their frequent arguments, but the benefit of arguing was the inevitable makeup. He had no intention of stopping anytime soon. He had felt it was no need until Mouse is able to find something they can use. Halstead stumbled back –out of breath and gasping for air. Erin is smiling as her hand grips her hair from the back, "Sorry, we'll finish this later," she nods her head in the direction of the bullpen, "If I don't go now, he's going to come looking for me and the last thing we want is to be caught making out." Erin drew back, and stepped backwards away from Halstead.

"What's up?" Erin practically almost ran into Voight in her haste to approach him; he didn't like to be kept waiting for long periods of time.

"Platt wants to see you downstairs."

Erin sets her water bottle down onto her desk before scrambling out of the bullpen. She noticed the two empty boxes of pizza stuffed into the nearby trashcan while most of the team used their fingers or floss to pick food out of their teeth. The luxuries of working with guys…the sarcasm was evident in her thoughts. Erin is downstairs, and Platt is waiting for her on the other side of the gate. The sergeant's face is unreadable; her hands are in her pockets and she's tapping her foot impatiently waiting for Erin.

"Voight said-"

"Follow me," Platt interrupted, leading the younger detective into the locker room. Lindsay doesn't argue or question the sergeant's odd behavior; she knows she'll eventually have answers soon. And once she shuts the door behind Erin, Platt pulls her hand out of her pocket and extends a ring box towards her. When Erin finds herself hesitant to take it, the sergeant grabs her hand and sets the jewelry box down inside it.

"Sergeant, I'm flattered-" Lindsay blushes, staring down at the velvety dark blue box.

Trudy shakes her head and interrupts, "I didn't buy it for you." She watches as Erin opens the box and notices the wide, amazed and confused look in her eyes as they beamed down at the small piece of jewelry, "It was delivered here, no note attached. You're 'I'm not having an affair lover' must have bought it for you."

"Who? Tyler?"

"You're having an affair with the new detective."

"What? No!"

Platt crosses her arms and leans against the nearby lockers, "You said his name, not me. How do you know this is from him then?"

"He's the one who bought me the flowers."

"Erin, this is jewelry;" Platt chuckles, eyeing the antique ring, "a pretty old looking ring –vintage looking- and it looks real." She averts her eyes back to Erin, "It's far from flowers."

"You're right." She shuts the box and extends it back to Platt; she didn't want it.

"Why did he buy you flowers?"

"…a friendly gesture."

Platt takes the ring back, "None of my friends send me flowers."

"Is there anything else you need me for sergeant?" Erin didn't want to continue talking about this. This wasn't supposed to be her main subject of the day. She came here to work. She came here to help out with the case, regardless of the occasional nausea she's feeling.

Trudy pats her shoulder, "You know I don't judge you Erin."

"I'm not having an affair."

"Lindsay-"

She pushes Platt's hand off her shoulder, "I'm not having an affair sergeant! And I find it a little insulting that you keep thinking I am!"

Erin and Trudy had mutual admiration for one another. She respected Platt and Platt respected her, especially after hearing everything Lindsay overcame as a child to get her to where she is today. The two women supported one another; they were friends. Platt was like a mother to her. She gave Erin advice when needed, she spoke her mind and told her things that she may not have wanted to know –she did it all for Erin's best interest. The sergeant bites the inside of her cheek; she's ready to hug Lindsay, but she hears someone clear their throat and stumble back.

"Burgess, what are you doing?" Platt questions as she and Erin turn to face the detective. She's embarrassed. She tried to sneak back out the second she overheard a conversation she wasn't supposed to hear. Kim felt her stomach drop as she looked back and forth between them and the door. Her hands fumbled with the fabric at the bottom of her shirt, "I'm so sorry."

"Kim, get back here," Erin calls out the second Burgess tries to race out the door, "I promise you. It's not what you think."

"I didn't hear anything," Burgess offers her a smile, both of her hands in the air as she attempts to assure her friend that what was said, she didn't listen to and focus on.

"I'm not cheating on my husband."

Kim lowered her hands and shook her head, "It's none of my business."

"West and I are just friends," Erin attempted to explain.

"I believe you."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"…maybe because you don't believe yourself?" Kim offered the possibility that Erin truly didn't want to hear. Burgess stepped closer; she's finally relaxed given that Platt and Lindsay weren't stupid and clearly knew that she heard most of their conversation. They happened to be too focused on the conversation to hear Burgess come in. In order to avoid further interruptions, Platt walked over to the door and locked it, "Erin," Platt turns to face her; her back leant against the sealed door, "it's normal for marriages to shake. My advice would be to talk to Jay."

"Nothing is going on between me and Tyler."

"…then what's with the flowers?" Platt retorted as Burgess silently looked back and forth between them as if she were watching a tennis match. Her head bobbed from the right to the left, side to side depending on who's currently speaking.

"He has a schoolboy crush and I nipped it in the bud." Erin exclaims, beginning to pace the small aisle between the two rows of lockers, "It won't happen again," she asserts, her hand going behind her back to grip her wrist, "I'm going to take the ring to him. I'll ask did he send it and if he did, I'll tell him to send it back…and I'll tell Jay, but if he didn't send it, it's no point telling my husband; he'll get upset for no reason, and since Tyler has been here, he's already been acting odd. Jay and I left things on a good note; I want to keep it that way."

"If you were my wife, I would want to know," Kim whispers, stepping back the second Erin stops pacing.

"Sometimes ignorance is bliss."

"…and sometimes, it isn't."

"I'm going to talk to Tyler and depending on how that conversation goes determines whether or not I'll tell Halstead," Erin's not so sure about this either, but it's the best thing she can think of. She extends her hand to Platt and sighs thankfully when the sergeant sets the jewelry box back into her hand. She appreciated the lack of argument coming from Trudy; she's usually Erin's voice of reason or rebuttal.

"Okay," Kim raises her hand, "but for the record, I think this is a bad idea."

"Burgess, you're my friend –one of my closest friends."

"Yeah," Kim smiles, feeling exactly the same way; the feeling was definitely mutual.

"Support me. Trust me."

"I am. I do. Don't get me wrong, I'm down for whatever you decide to do, but also as your friend, I have to tell you when I disagree with it."

"I just wish the answer was more obvious."

"Let's change the conversation…" Platt steps up; she can tell Erin needed the break, and the second she saw Lindsay sit down on the bench and cover her queasy stomach with one hand, she took a seat next to her, "How was your doctor's appointment? No offense, but we placed some bets around here. What did you have?"

"It's not past tense; I still have it," Erin mumbled, instantly regretting the moment she decided to eat half of that slice of pizza.

"Stomach virus? Flu? Food poisoning?" Burgess listed off; she was a part of the bet with Platt and a few other members of the team, "It's not something serious is it?"

"I'm pretty sure she would tell us if it is, right detective?"

"I'm pregnant."

It was like ripping off a band-aid. You do it –or in this case, you say it- to get it over with. The words felt foreign. They stung a little bit. It was the first time the words came from her mouth and she honestly didn't know how that made her feel. Erin's arms rest over her knees, and her hands are clasped as she continues sitting on the bench. She's purposely avoiding eye contact. She can feel both of their eyes seeping into her as they noticeably stare. The back of her hand is used to wipe below her nose as Platt finally looks away to glance at Burgess, "I called it!" Trudy is smiling from ear to ear, either at Erin's news or the fact that she won the bet, "Burgess pay up. Give me my money."

"Wait." Erin asserts, looking up through her watery eyes, "You suspected this?"

"Yeah; it was a little obvious." Platt happily accepted the cash from Burgess as she shrugged off her reply. She knew about everything going on inside the precinct; this was just another thing that she picked up on and knew about before Erin had the chance of finding out.

"…not for me," Erin glances back down at the tiled floor.

"Me either," Burgess adds; she says it in an attempt to cheer Lindsay up, "I thought you had a stomach virus; I was actually pretty positive it was a stomach virus."

"All of them bathroom runs, you were either puking or constantly peeing, either way, it's a sign. You can hardly keep anything down, not to mention you can barely tolerate the smell." Platt begins explaining; she's listing off the dead giveaways that supported Platt's once untested prediction, "You were really fatigued, but I just assumed that had to do with the double all-nighter you guys pulled last week, I didn't put much thought into that symptom." She smiled and turned Erin to face her –tugging onto her cheek in an attempt to cheer her up, "You also gained a little weight in the face."

"I have?" Erin's hands fly to cover her face, "No one said anything to me."

"…because no one wanted to be killed," Platt admitted, patting Erin's thigh, "It's not huge weight gain. It's barely noticeable. It's just noticeable for anyone looking to prove their pregnancy theory. You're just a little full in the face." Her eyes scanned from Erin's face down towards her tummy, "How far along are you?"

Erin wipes the dry skin beneath her eyes –fearing tears have fallen and rested there, "…three weeks," she disclosed, looking back and forth between Trudy and Kim, "conception had to be around the time we went undercover at the nightclub. We're usually really careful, but after being undercover trying to woo Tyler, Jay had gotten a little jealous and he was so hot and-"

Platt raised her hand, "We don't need the details. You can spare us."

"I've gotten a little bit better." Erin admitted, subconsciously sliding her hand across her nonexistent bump, "The doctor said when I'm in the second trimester the symptoms usually subside. I just have ten more weeks to go before the end of my first trimester."

Burgess took a seat on the opposite side of Lindsay; she tossed one arm around her closest friend and pulled her as close to her as possible. Erin's head leaned against Kim's shoulder as Kim gently and comfortingly rubbed her arm, "Does Jay know?"

Erin lifts her head and looks at Burgess, "I haven't had a chance to tell him yet. He keeps acting like a jealous idiot. It makes it a little hard. And I've only known since this morning. I had a doctor's appointment earlier this week that Jay didn't know about and when the doctor drew blood and said he was going to run tests, I started suspecting it, but I didn't know for sure until this morning at my follow-up appointment. You guys are the first people I've told."

Platt asks, "When are you going to tell him?"

"When he gets his act together…" Erin shrugs and blows out her answer.

"He has a limited amount of time before he figures it out for himself." Platt remarks, patting the lower portion of Lindsay's belly, "You're shaping Erin."

"We should head back to work." Lindsay announces, gently pushing Platt's hand away before rising to her feet, "We have important work to do." She felt the bulge of the jewelry box in her pocket, reminding her of the other important conversation she should be having soon.

"Make sure you tell Voight," Platt called out as Kim and Erin made their way towards the exit.

"I will tell him after I tell Jay." Erin shouted over her shoulder before walking out of the locker room with Burgess trailing closely behind. The two walked in silence through the gate and back up the stairs; once arriving, the curious glances of the team fell onto them, to which Erin deliberately overlooked.

Lindsay doesn't see Jay –he must be in the office with Voight and Olinsky. Mouse is on the phone having an important conversation over some type of case files. Whatever it is, she's sure she'll hear about it soon if it involves their case. Erin scans the bullpen, and spots Tyler walking into the breakroom. She pulls the jewelry box from her pocket and begins storming towards his retreating figure, "Tyler," she asserts, stepping into the breakroom and cracking the door behind her, "Did you get me this?" Lindsay opens the box and sets it down on the counter in front of him. His surprised eyes fall onto the sparkling rock in the center of the ring. His eyes eventually avert towards her to take in her mood –she's upset, she's practically fuming; her foot is rhythmically tapping on the tiled floor and her hands are pressed against her hips.

"I didn't buy that," he affirmed, reaching for a mug in the overhead cabinet, "I got you flowers over two weeks ago which you threw out. Why would I buy you a ring? I like you Erin, but I'm not an idiot. I don't just blow through money. I didn't buy that."

The anger fades from her face; she was ready to rip his head off if he bought her that ring. She felt stupid. She picked up the jewelry box and silently watched him pour himself a mug of coffee, "I apologize."

"You really want me to be the bad guy."

"No I don't. I'm just," she cuts herself off as she thinks about the appropriate response, "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. I didn't think you bought it for me. You're not that stupid," both detectives smile at her insult, "I'm sorry."

Tyler pours cream into his coffee, "It's alright. Next time, just use those detective skills." He grabs the nearest spoon and mixes his drink, "Coffee?"

"No thanks," she declines the offer even though she could in fact use a cup; she was pregnant and the doctor said no coffee, "It's a vintage ring. Who could have possibly sent it to me then?"

"Like I said Detective Lindsay," Tyler brings the cup near his mouth to blow the steam away, "use those detective skills to figure it out." Before Detective West could take a sip, he lowers his cup. His eyes are focused over her head and towards the opening door; Jay walks in. Erin eventually looks over her shoulder to see what had pulled in Tyler's attention and distracted him from drinking his coffee. At the sight of her husband, she stepped further back from Tyler and discreetly pocketed the jewelry box.

Detective West saw her, but made no mention of it. There's a reason she did it and he was going to respect that. He lifted his hot mug of coffee, nodded towards Detective Halstead and excused himself out of the room. Erin was left standing in the breakroom, watching as her husband approached her, "Sneaking off to make plans with your secret boyfriend…"

"Shut up," she laughed, sighing the moment he broke the obvious tension in the air.

Jay's eyes squint –immediately noticing the bulge in her pocket, he makes no mention of it, "Are you ready to head on out of here?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys, "I'll meet you at the house since you drove here."

She clears her throat, "Okay."

"Erin, what was that about?" He tried to avoid asking; he actually hoped she would tell him without him having to question it. When she didn't mention anything, he was actually willing to overlook it, but the hesitance and awkwardness that formed in her body language and speech had him curious. He needed to know what was wrong.

She pats the side of his face and smiles reassuringly, "When I know, I'll tell you." His hand covered the hand of hers that patted his cheek, and he softly kisses it. He can respect that answer. He's going to hold her to her word on that.

Tyler stood in the bullpen; he's completely dazed out as he stares at the pictures of the four victims taped up to the whiteboard. He mindlessly sipped his coffee as his eyes rotated through each picture. The only thing interesting enough, and big enough, to pull his attention away from their photos was Erin and Jay departing from the breakroom –hand in hand. He stared at their joined hands as they said their goodbyes to the remaining detectives in the office. Voight wanted everyone to get some rest and he promised to call the second Mouse found something. Before Tyler looked back at the whiteboard, he made eye contact with Burgess –she watched him. She watched him as his eyes followed Erin through the aisle of the bullpen and down the stairs –he watched her until she walked out of his line of vision.

As Erin left out with Jay, she could feel Tyler's eyes following her; it all only pushed her to pull her husband even closer. If her words weren't enough, maybe her actions will be. She enjoyed being close to Jay –having that physical contact- she enjoyed being near him and knowing his presence was close, regardless of whether or not they're arguing, his presence alone was always wanted and comforting. They could argue all day and night, screaming at one another at the top of their lungs, but they loved each other and that wouldn't change for anything or anyone. To separate, even for a brief amount of time, as Erin goes to her car and he goes to his was hard; it was disconnecting as they had to be separated from their other halves. Without the other, they felt incomplete. She just wanted to get home, cuddle up to her husband on the couch and maybe watch a movie. She wanted to forget about the troubles of the world –even for a brief second- before Voight has to call them back into the precinct to investigate whatever Mouse is on the verge of discovering. And the second they arrive home, her wish; her hope to be with her husband and watch a movie became reality.

They're sitting upon the couch, some old movie playing on live television. It wasn't about the movie; it was about them being together. Honestly, neither knew the name or the plot of the film. It was watching them more than they watched it. Jay couldn't even see the screen if he wanted to; he was currently preoccupied by a welcomed and wanted distraction. Erin was on his lap –facing him- arms wrapped around his neck and a leg bent and resting on each side of his body. The dialogue of the movie faded into the background as Jay groans in pleasure as his mouth worked to urge her lips apart, "What has gotten into you?" Erin's lips smirked against Jay's as she used silence to answer his question. She wasn't in the mood for talking. She was in the mood for him –all of him. You can blame it on the overwhelming sense of hormones or the fact that she and her husband started something near the water fountain that they never got to finish; either reason felt understandably enough for her to want to have and enjoy him completely.

The passionate kiss felt achingly slow for Erin –she was impatient. And without disconnecting their lips, she ripped open his buttoned up shirt –they could hear a few broken buttons fly off and hit the floor. She made a mental note to clean that up later. Erin could feel Jay pour every ounce of love he had for her into that single kiss –it was powerful, invigorating and just completely fulfilling. It was needed on his part too. He hated when they were mad at each other; the only good thing that came from it was when it was make up time. Sometimes –an emphasis on sometimes- it made it all worth it. With both of their eyes closed and mouths moving against the other, Jay finally increased the speed; it was no longer slow and passionate, it was now hard, fast and intense as he kissed his wife while gently and carefully easing her onto her back. This may have been a temporary solution to their troubles and having sex was only going to provide a temporary relief to the Tyler problem, but it was so worth it for them. The discarding of their clothes, the skin to skin bodily contact and the passion that rocked the rest of their evening as their bodies joined together in a way that no ordinary person can truly understand –a person who has never experienced love won't be able to understand. Sex wasn't just about releasing the overwhelming urge of satisfying your needs. Sex was so much more than that; to them, to Erin and Jay it was a way to combine their beings –join their bodies- in a vulnerable admittance of shared loved. She was his wife. He was her husband. The second they started dating, the other was the only one who had the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing, touching, kissing and making love to their partner –their other half. Their relationship was more than the Tyler argument; they've overcome so much together; it's the reason why it's so easy to make up and make love after such a long and argumentative day. It's because they don't let the small things get to them and permanently stand in their way. If they did, they wouldn't be here; they wouldn't married, expecting a baby and currently on the sofa making love.


	5. Indianapolis

One of the most difficult and challenging criminals to catch are those that are clever, calculating, psychotic and absolutely sadistic. Those are the criminals who can go months to years without being caught, without so much as leaving a lead for police to follow and the cockiness that suddenly starts to develop in their beings because of that is what screws them over; it's what will eventually lead them to slip up and get caught. It was just a matter of waiting it out –waiting for the inevitable moment that their psychosis and their manipulation of the police boil over and lead to their capture and inevitable justice that hopefully follows. It has been a total of seven weeks since they received the case, six weeks since Tyler joined their unit to temporarily work together on the case and six weeks of pregnancy for Erin. That's a little over a month for her –almost two months in total, and she still hasn't said anything to Jay. For her, the opportunity was never right; this was big, this was life-changing, she wanted to tell her husband in the best way possible.

The opened case files of Linda Foster –their third Chicago victim- sat in front of her. She read each line of information and evidence twice –once to just read it and twice to analyze it. There was nothing new, there was nothing overlooked. However for Erin, the file felt new to her; as an expectant parent she read it with opened and biased eyes, reading Linda's husband's statement regarding them trying to work through the holes in their marriage and his wife sadly being killed before reunification could occur was heartbreaking, and it was even more saddening that she not only left behind her husband, but two kids –teenagers as the written ages in the file state- behind.

Lindsay wasn't even a mother yet and her heart went out to Linda, her husband and their two kids. She couldn't imagine breaking the news to her future children about her husband's –their dad's- death. That's not something she feels equipped to do and able to handle. She couldn't even imagine the same being done vice versa; if Jay's the one who has to break the news of her death to their kids –it's unimaginable. And even if she's not hear to fully experience or witness Jay breaking the news to her kids, just the thought that it's possible, that it really could happen, especially with their chosen career path has her on edge, has her jittering and definitely worried. As a pregnant woman –who is six weeks, pushing seven- she knows there's barely a bump underneath her shirt yet she finds comfort in setting her hand down upon it. It's small and unnoticeable and her desk that she sits behind hides her hand from public view. It's the first time she acknowledges it without panicking and freaking out over how she's going to tell her husband. It's the first time her hand touches it that causes her to actually relax and think about the positive –the future life that she's going to bring into the world.

"Are you okay?"

She shuts the file almost guiltily, "I'm fine." Erin looks up to see Jay holding two mugs of coffee –one for himself and one for her. Her hand is no longer settled on her tummy and she finds relief in knowing that Jay didn't notice. If anything, she had plans to play it off as nausea and queasiness –those symptoms still bothered her so it wouldn't be a total lie.

"It looks like we're pulling another all-nighter; I think you're going to need this. I made you coffee," he says, fanning the steam from her cup, "and yes, I put enough cream and sugar in it."

"I'm trying to cut back on my coffee intake," instead of grabbing the mug, she simply pushes it away. The actual smell and aroma flying up her nostrils was getting to her. She squirmed in her seat but kept her face stoic and expressionless in order to hide the ache of queasiness in her stomach. Over these last few weeks, she has gotten better with hiding her pregnancy symptoms. She waited out the nausea and once it passed, she relaxed and focused back in on the moment; she focused back in on the present, the present in the moment that Jay has his hand pressed against her forehead, "What are you doing?" She laughs to hide the obvious confusion.

"I think you may have caught something; you never refuse coffee," he remarked, his hand gently sliding down to feel the side of her face, "I know you're exhausted. If last night didn't wear you out, I don't know what would."

She smacked his hand away the second her cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of red, "Our sex life isn't work conversation."

"It is if it's with my wife," a wink of the eye follows his retort.

Erin looked around the room to ensure herself that no one was watching or listening in to their conversation. She saw everyone currently occupied; it was a relief. Erin used the arms of her swivel chair to stand up, and she leaned forward to grab her nearly empty water bottle, "I'm going to go fill up my water bottle." She winks. It's an excuse to leave –to go somewhere that's semi-private. Since she found out about her pregnancy, it was normal for her to make frequent trips to the water fountain –she needed to stay hydrated as recommended by doctor's orders. It wasn't weird and out of character for her to go, so she used that as an excuse to get him to come along. She took his cup of coffee from his hands and set it down onto her desk; she needed his hands empty. They were going to be preoccupied for a moment.

"You're definitely staying hydrated."

He doesn't catch on to her suggestion and she's forced to elaborate in a suggestive hint type of way, "Maybe I'll see you at the fountain, maybe I won't." Her dimples flash as she smiles flirtatiously. It would definitely be a buzzkill if he didn't. Fortunately for the both of them, he does get it and three minutes after Erin walks away, he follows.

Each member of the team is distracted; they're paying no attention to Halstead and Lindsay, and they don't even realize they left the bullpen. Dawson's attention is absorbed by the whiteboard; he can't help but feel like there's another connection that they're overlooking. His arms are crossed and his hands cuff his elbows as he paces the short distance in front of the evidence board. Burgess and Atwater are both sitting in chairs –watching him pace- as they throw ideas and possible scenarios his way.

"There may be another connection besides the nightclub that links our victims together," Antonio added to the other scenarios that Kevin and Kim posed just moments before he spoke.

"I disagree," Burgess affirmed, shaking her head in dispute, "the club is the main and only connection between them besides their killer."

"…no Dawson has a point," Kevin refuted.

As Burgess, Atwater and Dawson disputed the connection between their victims, Ruzek sat at his desk, searching through missing persons in Chicago to see if they match the description of the previous victims. He managed to find six opened missing cases of women who match the description of their deceased victims however the other evidence involved in their disappearance doesn't match up. Those women have nothing to do with their current case.

"This is stressful" Ruzek groans, slamming down the unfinished case file of their assailant; every piece of solid evidence they learn about him, they stick into the folder. It's thin –they barely know anything. He shuts down his computer next, "Seriously, how are we supposed to catch this guy if he leaves nothing behind? How is he so good at covering his trail?"

"I found something!" Mouse shouts before anyone could respond to Ruzek's complaints. He jumps to his feet, runs through Erin and Jay as they return from the water fountain in his haste to approach and knock on Voight's office door.

Erin sets her empty water bottle down onto her desk –she had forgotten to actually fill it up; luckily everyone was too focused on whatever Mouse has discovered to notice. Mouse knocks and knocks until the door is finally swung open, revealing a confused and bewildered Voight.

"I found something sir," Mouse retreats back to his desk, waving for his boss to follow.

"What is it?"

He has the entire team's attention. Erin is tugging on her shirt, adjusting it and making sure it's straight as Mouse turns his computer to face them, "I found two women who were murdered in Indianapolis before the four women in Chicago were killed. They match the physical description of our victims here, they were found with missing body parts with pink roses found either on them or around them. I'm pretty positive that he killed these women too."

Voight leans forward and squints as his eyes adjust to the brightness on the computer screen, "Lucy Grant; she was 19 and could possibly be his first official victim. She was a waitress."

"And he pulled out all of her teeth," Mouse informed the team.

"Shelby Ward," Voight read the next name off the screen, "she's 25 and is the second victim."

Mouse turned the screen back into its normal position, "her nose was carved off."

"What was her profession?" Tyler questions, making his presence known; he reaches the top stair after listening in on the entire case update.

"…she was a cop," Mouse solemnly whispers; cop killings were always extra hard. Even though she was in Indiana, she was still one of them.

"Good job on the discovery," Voight pats the computer tech's shoulder, giving him a wide and proud smile that is reserved only for those who finds the metaphorical needle in a haystack.

Tyler walked over to join the rest of the team; they're all staring at the uploaded photos of Lucy Grant and Shelby Ward. He maneuvers through the team to lean forward and take a good look at the DMV photos of the two Indianapolis victims, "You guys finally prove you know how to do your jobs," Tyler uses each of his hands to pat the back of the detectives who is nearest to him –the detectives being Lindsay and Ruzek, "It only took six weeks, but hey, who's counting?"

"Weren't you here to help us? So far you have given us no help," Halstead retorts, staring at Tyler's hand resting against his wife's lower back.

"I gave you the case files."

Jay leaned over and casually swatted the man's hand away as he responded, "…which we can't really use because we have no witnesses backing up the information you gave." His hand took over the place Tyler's hand once set and without anyone noticing what just transpired between the two Halstead stole a kiss against the side of his wife's head. Erin's hand settled on the area her husband just pecked; her eyes glance to the side and confusedly eye him.

Tyler remarked, "My word should be enough. I can vouch for them," his eyes roll at Jay's argument and his attempt to 'claim' Erin by unexpectedly kissing her; Tyler didn't care. He liked a challenge, he liked games and he especially liked her.

"Anyway," Mouse spoke up, gearing the conversation back onto topic, "I contacted the Indianapolis police department and their sergeant is supposed to call you Voight either sometime today or tomorrow to fill you in completely on the two cases, now what we do know besides their names, ages and careers is Lucy and Shelby had both visited the same nightclub, and Lucy was found four days afterwards and Shelby was killed two days after visiting the club. They were killed one month apart from each other," Mouse is glancing between each member of the team, "The two cases have been recently closed after they reached a dead end."

"Good job Mouse. You've been working yourself dry these past few weeks." Voight asserted, giving the younger man a nod of affirmation, "You can head home. You can come back and start fresh tomorrow. And when you get in, I need you to finish combing through the club's surveillance footage to find us something else we can use to identify him."

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying a little longer."

"Let us follow the trail you provided and if we need you we'll call."

It doesn't take long for Mouse to nod in agreement, grab his jacket and then leave. He was absolutely exhausted; he had devoted most of his time to find some sort of lead for the team to follow up on. Once Mouse departs down the stairs, Voight hears his desk phone ring, and he automatically knows it has to be the Indianapolis police; for one, he wasn't expecting any calls and two, if someone did call, they didn't have his direct phone line –they would call the front desk who would patch it through to Mouse's desk phone. Mouse gave the Indianapolis police department Voight's own office number to cut out the middleman. Before jogging into his office to answer the call in private, Hank ruffled the top of Erin's head, "You did well too kid." He commended, chuckling heavily when she swatted his hand out of her hair, "Getting us to look at other states to see if our perpetrator struck somewhere else first was a good idea." Hank steps back and begins heading towards his office, "stay here and push your dinner break back a few hours until I get off the phone and catch you all up to speed."

The moment Voight disappeared into his office, Olinsky walked over to the whiteboard and lifted the dry-erase marker. He writes down the names of their two Indianapolis victims and underneath their names, he writes what little information they knew about them. As he writes down Lucy Grant's age, he hears Lindsay pose a question from behind him, "Do you think they were the first two or there's more?"

"I think it's safe to say, they're the first two," Olinsky replied, sticking the top back onto the marker, "Mouse has spent weeks going state by state in search of other possible victims. He would have found something or said something otherwise."

Tyler chuckled in doubt, "Mouse is one man and its fifty states, not including Washington D.C. Please excuse my obvious disbelief in his ability to check each state in the allotted time."

"It's been six weeks Tyler," Halstead defended his closest friend, "and Mouse knows how to do his job. He's one of the best. Trust me when I say, he would have found and said something if there was something to find and say. There's nothing else out there in the other states! And he has done more for this investigation than anyone, so until you bring us evidence that is actually useful, how about you stop questioning my friend who's actually doing his job?!"

Erin is the only one in the room who picks up on the obvious battle of masculinity between her husband and Tyler; both wanting to be right, but knowing that it's impossible. One is obviously right and the other is wrong. She brushes her shoulder against her husband –signaling for him to calm down and relax; she wants him to stop letting Tyler get to him. When Halstead looks at her, he reads the message she's trying to deliver; the message to chill out. It's not always what you say, but how you said it, and Halstead's words pierced through the quiet bullpen. The team may have picked up on it, but they showed no signs it. Erin gave her husband one last look; a hopeful one that pleaded with him to just try and be civil. He rolls his eyes –obviously having no intention of doing as she requests. And without giving her husband another warning look, she walks over to lean against the corner edge of her desk, "So he started out in Indiana and somehow ended up here in Illinois." She focuses the conversation –or lack thereof- back on topic, on what really matters and that's solving this case.

Kim takes a seat in her desk chair and asks, "Was he born and raised in Indiana or did he just move there and start killing?" Her fingers intertwine as her hands rest above her desk.

"I hate the fact that we have more questions than answers," Ruzek mumbled, kicking a small trashcan to the side –his obvious frustration boiling over to the point where it starts seeping into his actions, and the act of him kicking an inanimate object away from him.

"Come on," Tyler drawled out, walking over to Ruzek, "I thought you guys were given the case because you're one of the best units," he throws his arms around Adam's shoulders, and the other detective simply steps away from his embrace, "You're a challenge"

"We're a challenge?" Ruzek repeats in confusion.

"Scratch that from the argument," Tyler chuckles, waving away his earlier statement, "Look, I heard the best about the Intelligence unit, show me that it wasn't all just talk."

Lindsay did agree with Detective West; they were one of the best units. Their ability to solve and close cases in comparison to other units was astounding. He was right. She wouldn't verbally divulge it to him because his ego was way too large to handle her admittance without her having to hear any annoying comments or suffer from any irritating repercussions. Tyler was a person who couldn't handle compliments because they would go straight to his head. She did agree with him, the Intelligence unit had a great rep, and they had to prove that; they had to solve this case to shut his smugness up and to get justice for the victims.

She's ready for the all-nighter they all agreed to pull. And because she's still working herself day after day, she has to stay hydrated –doctor's orders. She has to drink double the amount of water –not only for her, but for the baby too. When the team surrounded the whiteboard, staring at it as if the answer or some clue would just pop up in their head right away, she decided to use that as her opportunity to go refill up her water bottle that she was too distracted to fill up earlier. It was a welcomed distraction, hint the reason why she wasn't upset about it, but it was a distraction nonetheless that could have been spent doing something more productive.

"I'm just going to go actually fill up my water bottle this time," she announces to no one in particular, but when Tyler steps away from the marker board she assumes he's the only one who heard and paid attention to what she said, especially when he grabs his own empty and brand new water bottle and follows her.

"You know," she starts the second he catches up to her, "that wasn't an invitation for company."

"I know, I just needed some advice and I didn't want the others to hear."

"Okay, what about?"

"…a girl."

She started filling her bottle, but stopped the second he answered her question. He needed advice about a girl. He came to her –a simple acquaintance- for advice about a girl. The water continued to pour but it was all missing the opening of her water bottle; she wasn't focused on aiming it and keeping the bottle situated underneath the pouring water. Erin was focused and drawn to Tyler's words; he was definitely a character and she was curious about the girl who had caught Detective West's attention, "So you found someone?" The corners of her mouth pull at her lips and her dimples start to pierce her cheeks in delight.

"You can say that."

"What's the problem then?" She turns back to resume filling up her bottle.

"I don't think she's interested."

"Well then there's not much you can do about it."

"…she's not interested in what she thinks she knows about me," Tyler clarified, stepping up to the water fountain the second she finishes, "She doesn't know the real me."

"Well then it's up to you to show her. Be you; be the real you," Erin advises, stepping back to allow him to fill his bottle, "You might as well be yourself because you'll get judged regardless."

"I don't know. I keep saying the wrong thing."

"Someone said it best Tyler; girls are like phones. We love to be held and talked to but if you press the wrong button you will be disconnected," she quoted some unknown author to the best of her ability as she watches his bottle fill, "My advice to you would be think before you speak. I know how confident and arrogant you can be."

"I'll try not to take offense."

"It's constructive criticism," Erin countered, earning a dramatic laugh from Tyler.

Erin overlooked the mocking tone in his laughter and clasped both hands around her water bottle. She used her side teeth and tugged onto the cap of her bottle, taking a sip right after loosening the nozzle. The second the cap came unloose, she gulped down a few satisfying sips. She tilts her head back and lifts her bottle further up as she quenches her insatiable thirst, "Erin," Tyler sighs, stepping away from the fountain and approaching her, "you make being perfect look so easy." They're practically touching –they're standing toe to toe- centimeters away from being chest to chest as he smiles at her.

"Trust me, I'm not perfect; I'm not even close."

"I can't tell."

"Tell me about her," Erin orders, steering the conversation back onto Tyler's mystery girl, "Tell me about the lucky lady who caught your eye."

"Let's do it over coffee; we've been here for hours and I need an energy boost." He offers her his hand, but she shakes her head to decline, "This water won't give me the energy I need."

"I'll go with you to make it but I don't want any."

"I don't know how you're surviving without it, but okay. It's your loss."

Tyler leads the way and Erin follows closely behind. The team is no longer surrounding the board. They're all separated –at their desks- working on the case. Once she finished talking with Tyler, she has every intention of getting back to it. He was a constant distraction; he was keeping her from doing her job. And Lindsay desperately wanted to get back to work, but Tyler was an interesting character, and her mind would rather focus on his girl trouble than on a case with six victims. Just the thought of the case made her sad and she didn't want to feel like that. She could blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but whatever it was, when she thought about it, she either wanted to cry out of sadness or yell out of anger. Those women didn't deserve death, and because of that, it didn't matter what she felt or why she felt it; regardless of her feelings, she needed to get back to work. So once Tyler makes his coffee, she's heading back out to throw herself into the endless amount of paperwork and dead ends that this case seems to consist of greatly. Most of their leads led to nowhere or no one, this was the biggest one they had, and the victims deserved for it to be investigated fully.

As Detective West goes to make his coffee, Erin settles herself in a hard chair at the table while sipping on her water. She listens to him talk about this girl. He sounds drawn and attached to her. He sounds mesmerized and as if he's in love. She has Tyler wrapped around her finger and the detective knew it and found no problem with it. Her appearance; beautiful and all around what he envisioned for himself. He described her personality; fierce, confident, independent, empathetic and most importantly, perfect. As he glanced at Erin from over his shoulder, he could tell the words he used to describe his mystery girl registered in her mind, but unbeknownst to her, she never made the connection between his crush and her –the connection being they're the same person. His words could have literally described any female. He kept broad for a reason.

"I just really want this relationship to work," Tyler admits, turning to face her completely as he stirs his coffee.

"You have to try. You have to put in effort," Erin replies, standing from her seat and approaching him, "You need to tell her how you feel."

It was kind of ironic; she's giving him advice on how he can sweep her off her feet. She's telling him what to do and how to go about taking a married woman from her husband. Tyler smiled at the irony of it, but his smile gleamed at the challenge within it. Following her advice could do him no wrong. Erin leaves her opened bottle onto the table as she rises from her seat, "Fight for her; trust me when I say it'll be totally worth it," she advises, and with each sentence, she takes a step closer, "Sometimes I wake up and nothing in my life makes any sense," Erin admits; the vulnerability in her words shining through her normal confidence, "but then I see my wedding ring or I hear my husband's voice or the thought of him comes to mind and I realize what matters. I realize that life doesn't have to make sense as long as I have him by my side."

"I want to fight for her. I want to be with her."

"You should-"

"I sense a but coming," he interrupts; his coffee long forgotten as he sits it upon the counter.

She kindly grabs his shoulder and turns him to face her, "You're correct," they stare eye to eye; his eyes directed downwards to account for her shorter stature, "I was going to say that you should fight for her, let her know the real you and don't give up unless she makes it clear to you that she's not interested. Tyler, I'm serious, don't seek something from someone who doesn't have the capacity to give it. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," he answers, flashing her a mock smile, "I'm not perfect though and she is." The smile on his face falters and it immediately softens Erin's heart; she actually feels bad for him.

"You have to stop thinking people are perfect."

"I've waited my entire life to find the perfect girl. I can't deal with imperfections."

She lightly squeezes his shoulder; he can barely feel the movement of her fingers against his body as they move against his arm, "…then you can't deal with dating; humans are imperfect –it's practically synonymous."

"I know the perfect girl exists," he assertively responds; she can hear the irritation in his voice.

"There's no such thing as a perfect person;" Lindsay rebuttals, immediately removing her hand from his shoulder the moment his eyes settled onto it; staring at the movement of her fingers as it reassuringly squeezed his shoulder; staring at it as if it were more than a friendly shoulder rub of comfort, "some people just suck less than others, but there's no such thing as perfection in a person, and until you realize that you're going to continue to get hurt."

"Trust me Erin, she's perfect and is definitely worth the fight. I've known her for some time and if I haven't spotted any imperfections yet, I probably won't at all. Now, let's drop it." He feels personally insulted by Erin's insistence that the woman he has feelings for –being herself- is not perfect –is far from it actually- and that he should accept that.

She has no more rebuttals; it's like talking to a wall. Nothing she says is going to transmit to him. He has it in his mind that the perfect girl is out there and the only way for him to experience the truth is to search for her and the inevitable heartbreak that will happen countless amount of times –it'll happen until he realizes that no one is perfect and love comes from realizing that and loving them and their imperfections anyway. Without another word, Erin nods and steps back to grab her water bottle; she needs to get back to work anyway so now was as good a time as any to end the conversation and head back out into the bullpen.

"Sorry to interrupt," Burgess interjected and smiling the second she hears a relieved sigh come from Erin, "I was just coming to tell you that Voight is finishing up his phone call." Lindsay gratefully pats Kim's back as she squeezes herself through the small opening Burgess left between herself and the door frame. As she slides through, she meets her husband's eyes; he's sitting behind his desk watching her, and all she can do in response to his focused orbs is smile. Jay's eyes pull away from her to watch Tyler leave the breakroom next, holding his hot cup of coffee. Tyler doesn't have a desk or a chair; he simply spends his time pacing up and down the aisle of the bullpen or leaning against the edge of another detective's desk.

Halstead is intrigued –he's curious to know what Erin and Tyler talked about, he's interested in knowing why Tyler chose to lean against Antonio's desk instead of Lindsay's like he usually does, and he's fascinated in finding out why they're hardly looking in each other's direction. Jay smirked; knowing whatever unhealthy pseudo-friendship they had going on was inevitably going to meet its downfall. The guy had a crush on a loyal woman; no matter how platonic one side of the friendship wanted to keep it, if both sides weren't in it for the same reasons, it was bound to go downhill. Jay didn't know the extent of whatever disagreement they had, but he could only cross his fingers and hope that it was big enough to halt whatever type of friendship they had developing. And when he opens his mouth to call his wife over –to pry and question what has Tyler in a bad mood, his unspoken words are interrupted by Voight's office door swinging open and the sergeant walking out of it seconds later.

"The sergeant is going to fax over their files," Voight starts, grabbing Mouse's empty desk chair and swinging it towards Tyler, "sit." The man sitting on the edge of Antonio's desk stands, balances his coffee in one hand and takes a seat in the swivel chair as Hank continues, "The sergeant filled me in on our two Indianapolis victims. We are already aware that Lucy Grant was a waitress and her teeth were pulled out before being killed. No other signs of being tormented, but she was killed four days after visiting the nightclub. If she was being tormented and stalked, she never told anyone –not even the police. And we also know that Shelby Ward was a cop and her nose was cut off; she wasn't tormented either, and she was found dead two days after visiting the club," Voight presses his lips together and sighs, "Lucy Grant is our first victim. The sergeant and I were thinking she could be the lead we need to identify him."

Ruzek cleared his throat, "Why did he take her teeth?"

"We only talked about him taking parts of them as souvenirs, but we never discussed it further," Voight responded, tucking his hands into his front pockets as he began slowly walking up and down the aisle between the row of desks.

"Why those specific parts though?" Olinsky brought up; he's still standing by the marker board, his eyes never once leaving it, "Why Lucy's teeth? Shelby's nose? Amanda's breasts? Linda's fingers? Claire's hair? And Michelle's lips and tongue? Why those specific parts?"

"Could be to remind him of what he's done?" Halstead casually mentioned, leaning back in his seat as his eyes moved from Lindsay to Voight the second he cleared his throat to speak next.

"It could be, but why not take the same body part?"

A brief silence falls over the room; it's dark outside and not one detective has thoughts of leaving anytime soon. Mouse's discovery had led them this far; they wanted to talk the case out and get somewhere in their investigation before calling it a night. Voight scans the room; each detective is thinking, and he's waiting for someone to offer some other possible scenario as to why he could take body parts. The one Jay offered was good, but they needed everything laid out in order to discuss each one through. So when Atwater raises his hand, Hank gladly points to him, "What if he's making a woman?"

Olinsky's eyebrows furrow in disgust, "Making a woman? Like his own version of a girlfriend?"

"Yeah," Kevin nods.

"It's definitely a thought for this sicko," Voight doesn't want to turn away any idea; if someone could think of it, then it's possible that their perpetrator thought of it, "What else?"

Halstead leans back and props his feet up onto the side of his desk; crossing one ankle over the other, he gears the conversation towards their second victim, "The cop: Shelby Ward. Why her? I feel like that's risky for him. And he's smart; he wouldn't take unnecessary risks."

"It could be why he left Indianapolis. She was his last victim before coming to Chicago. He left Indiana for a reason and maybe that's it," It's Erin's first time speaking up since leaving the breakroom with Tyler; Jay doesn't swivel his chair to face forward, he just turns his head.

"Good point Erin," Tyler asserts, nodding in Erin's direction while earning an eye roll from Jay.

"What do you think Detective West?" Voight turns to their newest detective, arms crossed over his chest the second he catches a subtle wink of the eye geared towards Lindsay, "You're not here to just wink and pat my detectives on the back while they work. You're here to help too."

"I think Erin's right," Detective West spoke up smiling confidently as each detective turned to face him, "I think killing a cop scared him."

The team waited to see if Tyler had any more to say, but when he made no effort to continue speaking, Erin rose from her seat to gear the attention back onto her, "What else did the sergeant say? Is there anything else you can tell us about Ms. Ward?"

"The sergeant said that Shelby Ward was undercover and two days later was found strangled in a garden with her nose missing."

"Where was she seen last?"

"…a nightclub."

Antonio muttered, "He seems to have those in common."

"She was surrounded by pink roses?" Erin questioned, walking around her desk.

"Yes," Hank answers.

She briefly thought to herself –piecing each word and clue of Shelby's death together before whipping her head up and staring wide-eyed at Hank; Lindsay posed further questions, "Could he have killed her after finding out she was undercover? Could the perpetrator taking her nose have something to do with that? Her nose could possibly symbolize something."

Atwater chimed in, "Betrayal?"

"Yeah, maybe; it's definitely possible. He meets her in a nightclub and they hit it off and he starts sending her random gifts and following her to places and maybe he followed her to work one day," Erin hypothesized, tapping her foot anxiously against the tiled floor.

"He took her nose because she's a cop?" Voight repeated her earlier statement in thought.

"He took her nose because she was being nosey," Erin reiterated, approaching her boss, "In his head, she was putting her nose in his business. She was investigating Lucy's death and maybe she was getting close."

"Or maybe she wasn't."

Everyone turns to face Detective West after his interruption; Kim prodded him for further explanation, "What do you mean Tyler?"

"Maybe she wasn't getting close and he killed her because he felt betrayed like Kevin said."

It was all speculation –everything said and discussed was an assumption. There were no hard facts and evidence to back it up. He didn't know what the file the Indianapolis police are sending over would consist of, but he hoped that with their fresh eyes looking at it, they would see something –anything that would lead to an arrest. Voight takes advantage of the silence as he begins walking back towards his office, "I'm going to call the sergeant back; I have a few follow up questions based off of what we just discussed. Olinsky," he turns to his oldest friend, "I want you to get into contact with Shelby Ward's team and find out everything; it's possible that she never made the connection that the man she was seeing in her personal life was the same man she was investigating in her professional life. Atwater," he calls, awaiting for Kevin to look up and receive orders, "I want you to contact Lucy Grant's family and Burgess," he snaps his fingers in her direction, "I want you to contact Shelby's family; it has been months –almost a year- since their loved one's death and they may remember something, and the questions you two ask may be different than the ones asked by the Indianapolis police months ago." After receiving orders, the three detectives separated to accomplish their assigned tasks. Voight remained outside of his office; he didn't want to step inside until he finished allocating jobs for each of them, "Mouse is going to start fresh tomorrow on the night club's surveillance camera. Also before coming out, I spoke with Platt, she offered to order us in some dinner since we're pulling another all-nighter; dinner should be here any minute. Lindsay," she looks up surprised that out of the remaining detectives, he requests for her; she knew that whatever he was going to assign her, it would be busy work, "Call the front desk of the Indianapolis police department and get a rush on those case files and once they're faxed over, I want you to look through them. See what we're missing."

And she was right. It was work to keep her occupied or it was work most likely to keep her busy and away from Tyler. The police were going to fax over the case files as soon as they had the chance; her calling to rush them wouldn't make them move any faster. They knew how important it was for her unit to have those files in order to continue investigating the case; if they haven't sent over the files yet, it wasn't due to procrastination; it was most likely because of it being a cold case. Those files were stored away somewhere and before they sent them over, they had to be located and signed out. She'll do as she's told, but they all know it's a waste of time. Out of all of the case files a big city's police department files each week, it's going to take them time and energy to search through each and every one. She knows this because if some other agency called to request the same thing from her unit, she wouldn't know where to look for the files first. Even so, instead of rebutting his direct order, she grabs her cell and heads towards the quiet hallway to make the call. Burgess and Atwater both remained in the bullpen making phone calls and she didn't want to have to speak over them or the rest of the team as they further discussed the case.

Erin is walking the hall as she waits for the front desk of the Indianapolis police department to pick up. And after being transferred two to three times to someone who could actually assist her, she leaves a message with a rookie cop to remind the unit who oversaw Shelby and Lucy's cases to either call her back or send over the file as soon as possible. She hangs up the phone and her free hand covers her baby bump as she hears the growls of her tummy; she's hungry and she needs to consume something besides water. She thinks this as she proceeds to lean forward and drink from the water fountain. Lindsay briefly pauses from drinking water to wipe her mouth, "I can't wait until whatever Platt ordered gets here. I'm starving," she whispers to herself, both hands falling to the slight bulge in her lower abdomen, "Hi baby, if you want to eat, you have to let me eat," her thumbs rub against the barely noticeable baby bump, "I need to eat. And you have to let me keep the food down."

Burgess is the first to hang up the phone –she left voicemail messages at the offices and homes of Shelby's family and friends. No one answered. It was around rush hour time so it wasn't odd for no one to be at home or work. She didn't have their cell phone numbers because they weren't listed on the print out that Mouse left on his desk. Kim had called back to back, rotating between each number; she wanted to give the team –and more importantly Voight- some type of update on the case, but just like everything else, it was a dead-end. And it'll continue to be a dead-end until one of them calls her back. However, -and unfortunately- all of that takes a backseat to her current situation when her stomach erupts into a loud gurgle, it filled the bullpen and earned chuckles from her male coworkers. Luckily, Platt walked in, holding boxes of pizza and pulling in all of their attention before they had the chance to poke fun.

"Your savior is here," Platt jokes, setting down all four boxes of pizza onto Mouse's desk.

Kim's arms wrap around her waist, "I'll get Lindsay," she whispers to no one in particular. She honestly doesn't even think anyone heard her. Each guy was absorbed with grabbing slices of pizza; you would think they haven't eaten in years.

Kim descends down the hallway and sees Erin up ahead drinking water –she's definitely staying hydrated. Burgess smiles; she's staying hydrated all for the baby. Erin didn't drink half as much water as she's drinking now. The smile on Burgess' face stretches even wider as she continues to watch her best friend sip water from the fountain. She sees Erin leant over and sipping water, but she also sees her gray shirt, it's slowly rising up a little and revealing the shaping of her stomach.

"Erin," Burgess sighs; her eyes go wide as she watches Lindsay jump back –she accidentally scared her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just going to say that you need to tell Halstead and Voight soon; you're starting to show a little more."

"I'm only six weeks; that's a little over a month."

"I'm not saying you're as big as a house, I'm just saying you'll eventually get there."

"He'll know by then," Erin replies, straightening out her shirt and pressing her hand over the front to ensure herself that it was nothing to see; it was all in Burgess' head. She thought she saw a hint of a bump because she knew Erin was pregnant. If she didn't know about Lindsay's pregnancy, she wouldn't think she saw anything; it was all in her mind. She pulls her hands away from her shirt and looks up with innocent eyes; eyes that plead with Burgess to listen, "I'll tell him in maybe a week or two…maybe three."

"When you're nine weeks pregnant –almost three months?"

"Yes," Erin's voice breaks; she sees the look of disappointment on Kim's face and it hurts.

"You're going to keep wearing baggy clothes to cover it up?"

"It's just for another three weeks," Erin affirmed, crossing her arms behind her back, "I should wait until the first trimester is over. After the first trimester, we're in the clear. I'll tell them."

"Erin-"

She interrupts, "Can we not talk about this?"

"What about your doctor's appointment?"

"I've only had one since the appointment I had when I found out."

Kim sighs, "Jay deserves to know Erin."

"And he will," Lindsay exclaims, closing the distance between herself and Burgess. She takes a hold of Kim's hands and squeezes them tightly.

"…then what's the problem?"

"I'm scared, okay?!" Erin shouts; her bottom lip trembles the second her confession is disclosed, "I'm terrified! And I try to busy myself and think about everything else but this baby, but I have you constantly in my ear reminding me of what I already know!"

"You know Jay wouldn't turn his back on you. He's your husband and that's his baby!" Kim exclaims, feeling Erin's hands tighten around her own, but the quiver of Lindsay's lips and the creasing of her brow take her by surprise, "That's his baby, right?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response," Erin contended, snatching her hands away from Burgess –stepping back from her right afterwards. Her face completely disgusted by the insinuation Kim made and her body language shifting away from her –depicting the hurt expression on her face and the tension in her shoulders.

"Erin, I'm sorry. Of course it's his baby."

Her hand covered her mouth as she suppressed a cry; the sight broke Kim's heart. She stepped towards Erin, and her heart broke even more when she watched her best friend step back. She extended her hands –wanting to do everything possible to keep Burgess away. She didn't want to be comforted; she didn't need it. She could take care of herself, and usually comments or insinuations that weren't true didn't make her cry, but this time, she couldn't help it.

"I feel like once I tell him, it'll be so much more real," Erin decides to talk anyway; she talks through the falling tears, she speaks through the hurt and she expresses herself regardless of the fear in her heart and the upset in her soul, "I need to close this case. If I tell him now, he's going to tell Voight and he will take me off the case; he'll take me out of the investigation. I need to work this case. I need to get justice for those girls!"

"Jay is going to notice sooner or later."

"Jay's a guy, they rarely notice anything."

"What about when you and Jay…you know, get romantic?" It was an awkward question for Kim to ask, but she asked it anyway.

Erin's hand falls back onto her nonexistent bump, "It's not that noticeable. Since this is my first pregnancy, the doctor says I should start showing between twelve and sixteen weeks."

"Erin, you're six weeks pregnant," Kim reminds.

"I'm going to tell him."

"When?"

"This is none of your concern Kim; this is between me and my husband," Lindsay snaps; her posture straightens, her hand drops from her belly and the tears stop falling from her face; she snaps herself out of whatever funk she was falling into in order to end this conversation, "So I would really appreciate it if you would stay out of my relationship and focus on your own!"

"I'm going to pretend like that didn't hurt."

Lindsay had no intention of hurting her feelings; she sometimes forgot how different she and Burgess are personality wise. It's what made them click right away. Kim was sensitive, but Erin wasn't, at least not until recently. Lindsay was bold and confident, but Burgess second-guessed herself a lot –she wore her heart on her sleeve, while if you wanted to know how Lindsay truly felt, you had to dig through layers. Even though she and Kim were polar opposites, it just made them get along a lot easier. However, sometimes Erin did forget that Kim was more sensitive than she is, and without regretting what she said, Erin replies, "I'm sorry."

Burgess approached her and smiled when Erin didn't step back, "Pregnancy hormones, I get it." She wraps her hands around Erin's upper arms and pulls her into a tight hug.

"No," Lindsay whispers into the hug, "I'm sorry. I can't even blame that on the hormones. That was 100% all me."

"…experiencing any other symptoms?" Kim purposely chooses to ignore it and Erin is perfectly fine with it; if pretending she didn't snap at her closest friend would make her feel better, then so be it. If pretending that it was because of her pregnancy made what she said any less harsh, then Lindsay was happy to go along with it.

The two pull back from the hug, "Besides the constant nausea? No." Erin answers in a soft tone.

"No food cravings. You're pregnant; you can eat whatever you want without being judged."

"I can barely keep anything down," Erin proclaims, dropping her hands to rest upon the lower portion of her belly.

"Can I touch it?"

"Touch what?" She questions, following Burgess direct line of vision to her tummy, "My stomach?" Erin shakes her head and steps back; she's slightly caught off guard and a little weirded out, "Oh Kim please don't turn into one of those people."

"One of what people?"

"One of those people who insist on always rubbing a pregnant woman's belly!"

"Come on Erin," Burgess steps forward and almost automatically Erin steps back.

"There's barely anything there." She retorts, running her hand smooth down the outside of her shirt to show Kim that her stomach is basically still flat, "The baby is not even the size of my fist yet." She balls her fist together for emphasis.

"You're baking a baby in there!" Kim argued, pointing towards her friend's flat belly. And knowing Kim and how persistent she can be –at least with Erin- she decides to give in, especially before someone overheard. Erin removes her hands from covering her tummy, "Alright fine, but make it quick."

The second Erin gives in, Kim practically bounced over. The smile on her face was stretched a mile wide. She resembled a kid on Christmas day. She was too giddy, especially being that she's technically the first person to rub Erin's stomach –Lindsay and her doctor didn't count. She's beaming proudly as she stretches her hand forward, and the moment her hand comes into contact with the fabric of Erin's gray shirt, amazement and love appeared on her face. Underneath her hand was Lindsay's shirt and underneath that shirt was her flesh that protected her baby. Kim absolutely couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. There's absolutely nothing that could ruin this day for her. She wasn't even the one that's pregnant, but the love she had for her best friend's baby, the baby that will call her aunt, the child that she'll hold and care for as if he or she were her own was indescribable. Her eyes are closed as she settles in the moment; her hand rubbing against Erin's flat stomach –feeling a slight hump underneath her bellybutton. She smiled even harder and she could actually feel her cheeks starting to ache from how stretched out her face is.

Kim leans forward and ignores the dramatic sigh that escapes Erin's mouth. She knows her best friend well enough to know she's rolling her eyes and probably thinking that Kim is doing too much, but she didn't care. The second everyone else finds out, they'll hog her and Burgess may not have a moment like this again. Both hands are now rubbing against Erin's tummy, and Kim is leant over at eye level with Erin's waist, "Hi beautiful."

Instead of an annoyed groan that Burgess was expecting, Lindsay surprises the both of them and laughs, "The baby probably looks like a bean or an alien."

"The baby is still beautiful to me," Kim defends, straightening her posture the second her back started to strain, "Where are those maternal instincts I always hear about from expectant mothers?" Even though she's standing upright now, her hand still remains on Lindsay's stomach.

Erin shrugs, "They haven't kicked in for me yet." It's a simple answer about a topic she hasn't really thought much about until now.

"What's going on?" the two detectives immediately –almost instantaneously- jump apart at the sound of Olinsky's voice, "What are you two doing?"

"…Erin was just-" Burgess hesitates after stumbling over her words; her hand is swatted away by Lindsay the second they both realize they were still in contact.

Olinsky looks back and forth between the two women, "Do I even want to know?"

"…no," Lindsay answers before Burgess has the chance to respond.

"I just came to remind you both that the food is here."

"Thanks Al."

Olinsky didn't turn to leave right away; instead, he gives both girls one last look and squint of the eye before turning to walk back into the bullpen. Once he leaves, both Kim and Erin release a loud sigh of relief –Burgess is shocked to find herself just as relieved that Erin's secret remained a secret. She may have disagreed with her on this whole issue, but she will support her decision no matter what she thought about it. Kim's hands grip her hips as she releases another breath of relief; her lips are poked out and she's releasing breath after breath until she feels a slight shove against her side, "HEY!" Kim laughs, as she immediately turns to Erin, "What was that for?"

"You almost got us caught."

"You make it sound naughty," Burgess jokes and after catching her balance, throws her arm around Erin's shoulders to pull her closer –she flushes her side against Lindsay's side, "I'm starving. Let's go eat."

"Hopefully this little nugget lets me." Erin replies while one hand wraps around Burgess' waist and the other subconsciously sets itself upon her stomach.

"Baby Halstead," Kim asserts as they slowly walk in the direction of the bullpen, "it's Chicago style pizza; let your mom eat and I swear you'll fall in love with it."

"You're reasoning with a fetus."

"I'll be reasoning with an infant too once the baby gets here."

Erin grins; her dimples lightly reveal themselves against her cheeks, "When are you going to find time to reason with the baby?"

"…when I babysit; if I don't reason with the kid, I'll have to bribe it."

"You're not bribing my kid."

"…which is why I said I'll reason with it."

"Come on, the guys are out there and with every second we waste talking is another second they could possibly be eating our pizza," Erin's raspy voice laughs as she leans her head against the shoulder of her best friend, "And besides the kid is hungry. Hopefully you reasoned with the baby enough to let me eat a slice or two."


	6. Implants

Progress doesn't just happen overnight –it sometimes doesn't even happen over the course of a day, a week, a month and sometimes even a year. It takes time and it takes effort, especially if you want things done efficiently and correctly. They had entirely too much to lose if they sped through this investigation; they had to make sure everything was done reasonably and in confines of the law. The progress they've made in their investigation has come along slowly but surely; they're further than they were when they were first given the case, but they're not nearly as far as they hoped to be after eleven total weeks. Erin knew in her current state that time was of the essence; she was ten weeks pregnant –that's two and a half months. Her waist is thickening a little; her hips are widening. She's not yet at the point where she needs to wear maternity clothes, but since her days are spent being surrounded by men who dedicate their lives to investigating and discovering the truth, she finds herself playing it safe by wearing shirts that are a size larger than her usual. In a few more weeks, her first trimester will be over, and she heard positive reviews from the doctor about the second; she needed that to get here as soon as possible. Her pregnancy symptoms were continually getting in the way of her trying to do her job.

Instead of being out there in the bullpen, Erin is hunched over a toilet. Instead of discussing with her team facts of the case, she's nauseous after the aroma of Olinsky's packed lunch spread through the workplace. And instead of helping the unit draw connections and find leads, she's releasing the contents of her lunch into the toilet. She thought that with time, her nausea was supposed to get better; if anything it has increased, it has gotten worse. And because of that, she rarely ever wants to be bothered –and if by any chance she does- her emotions and her mood could switch in an instant. She tries to control it, especially since no one besides Burgess and Platt knew the real reason behind it, but there's only so much controlling you can do when you're very emotional, very moody and the mood swings that occur within you are out of your hands –you no longer feel in control of your own freaking body!

She hears the bathroom door swinging open and footsteps follow –the sound of the flushing toilet is masked as she focuses on the voices that fill the restroom. She can't pinpoint them, but she knows she heard those voices before; it belongs to two rookie cops. They're joking around and trying to avoid their sergeant's wrath after a failed bust. Erin pulls her hair back and puts it into a ponytail; her body is exhausted and she feels dehydrated. She leans her back against the latched stall door as she patiently waits for them to leave, but as their giggles increase in volume she realizes they are in no rush to get back to work –they're taking their time.

"Get out of here." Lindsay straightens up at the sound of Platt's order; she hears the giggles disappear and the door shut, "Erin, come on out. It's me."

Lindsay unlatches the door and swings it open, "Do I look horrible?"

"…very."

She walks up to the mirror and against her better judgement, decides to take a look at her reflection, "I have the worst case of morning sickness to have ever existed," she turns on the water, and splashes the cold liquid against her face.

"I think you're being a little dramatic."

"You've never been pregnant; you wouldn't understand," Erin remarks, turning off the faucet water, "Oh gosh," she grabs a paper towel and dabs it against her damp face, "How am I supposed to go back out there when I practically ran off to the bathroom to puke my guts out?"

"They'll probably assume you're still sick," Platt brushes it off.

"It's been ten weeks."

Platt smiles and shrugs, "Who's counting?"

"I have a few more hours to get through before I'm off." Erin asserts to herself; she's staring at her reflection in the mirror. She's focused on her tired eyes and her messy ponytail. Her eyes eventually drift down her loose black, long-sleeved shirt tucked into her jeans; the color thins her out, it makes her look slimmer than she actually is. Her hands grip around the countertop as she blows a strand of hair out of her face.

Erin looks back at her reflection. The spotted mirror needed a cleaning, but it remained clear enough for her to see herself and the exhaustion clearly evident on her face. In the mirror, she sees Sergeant Platt step beside her and rest her hand against her lower back, "Jay isn't curious?"

"Of course he is; he asks so many freaking questions that it drives me crazy."

"What do you say?"

"Nothing," Erin replies, pulling her tucked-in shirt out of her jeans. She allows the loose shirt to dangle freely as her small baby bump finally had a chance to feel the breeze of air.

"And he doesn't find it suspicious?"

"We have sex so it hardly comes up."

"…eventually that isn't going to work."

Lindsay turns sideways and scans her side-profile in the mirror; observing the tiny intrusion and the fact that her shirt doesn't lay flat against her stomach; "I know, especially recently, I'm starting to show and I have not been in any kind of mood to…you know," she hints.

"Yeah I do."

She hates tucking in her long-sleeved shirts, but it's a must if she wants to continue obscuring the vision of her slight baby bump; Erin sucks in a large breath and tucks her shirt back in, "I'm already so over this pregnancy Platt."

"What's going to happen when he wants to…you know?"

"I literally do not have it in me."

"What if he asks?"

"…then I'm going to tell him. I wanted to wait until my second trimester, but I just can't anymore. I can't keep hiding this."

Platt offers her hand, "That's good to hear. You ready to head back out there."

"Hold a minute," Erin turns back on the faucet water and rinses the taste of puke out of her mouth. She gargles the water and spits it out; she does it twice before being satisfied at the lack of bile taste in the corners and creases of her mouth. She smiles; her upper teeth pressing against the lower teeth, "Ready," she shows Platt the smile and when she chuckles in response, she drops it. A fake smile they'll all see through; she sticks with a stoic, resting expression.

"Wait!" Platt shouts the second Erin walks towards the door. The detective practically jumps into the air and covers her heart from the sergeant's sudden raised voice. She sees a strip of gum extended towards her, and a genuine smile pulls at her lips.

"Thanks."

"Now you're ready."

Mouse had spent all day –and the last few weeks- combing through the surveillance footage. The only time he looked away from the screen was the moment where Erin and Platt walked up the stairs in the bullpen. He found himself scanning her appearance and blaming her tired expression on the overwhelming case they've been handed eleven weeks ago. Normally, he would have been finished searching through the surveillance videos weeks ago, but the facial recognition software is unable to detect and scan any face due to the dim lighting in the nightclub. It's frustrating and out of that frustration, he shoves his keyboard away and relaxes his forehead within his opened palm; he has everyone's attention, and he loudly voices his complaint, "What's the point of having surveillance if you can hardly make anything out?"

Dawson comes over to take a look at the screen, "You can't lighten the footage?" He squints as he tries to focus on each face in the flashing neon lights.

"This isn't television; if I lighten the footage it doesn't just become clearer."

Atwater approaches the other side of Mouse; he's also squinting his eyes while trying to make out the faces of each clubber, "Is there something you can do about it?"

"I just have to take my time and look through each frame carefully."

"I want to say take your time because we need to be thorough in this investigation," Voight says, walking out of his office after overhearing the discussion, "but time is definitely of the essence."

"He hasn't struck again yet," Mouse refuted.

"Any day now he can; the timing between each victim varies, this can just be another long time before the next one is found."

"I need extra eyes then."

Voight grips Kevin's empty desk chair, "Atwater, help Mouse." He rolls the desk chair towards him and before it can hit the wall, Atwater manages to grab it. Without any complaint, Atwater takes a seat beside Mouse and scoots his chair closer; Mouse rewinds the footage as they both comfortably adjust to two people sitting behind one desk and looking at a computer screen, tiredly watching frame by frame of the night their first Chicago victim visited the club.

The Indianapolis police had sent over their files the second they found them and logged them out of their system. Once received by the Intelligence unit, Olinsky posted the pictures of the victims onto the whiteboard –they were taped and situated next to their Chicago victims. Within one of the folders was a list of potential suspects that the Indianapolis police had made based off of who had argued with their two victims, however after using the weeks that passed to check each name out, none of those people cross-checked with either each other or their Chicago victims. The Indianapolis police reached a dead end months ago and now the Intelligence unit was slowly starting to pull up to the exact dead end that impeded the former police unit's search for justice.

Low chatter could be heard from Mouse and Atwater as they discussed each frame on the video while the footage played in slow motion allowing their eyes to scan through each face in search of one of their victims. It was tedious work, but it needed to be done. The remainder of the team created a semi-circle around the white board; they're eyes traveling from picture to picture; the only sound heard is the mumblings of Atwater and Mouse as they think they spotted the victim, only to find out it wasn't her. A large drawn question mark was written above the photos on the marker board; they didn't have a motive or a suspect. It was the two things they needed the most.

"Mrs. Scott this is the Intelligence unit," Platt introduces, holding the woman's wrist and carefully guiding her up the remainder of the stairs, "you've already met Sergeant Voight and Detective Olinsky, these are the rest of the detectives working on your daughter's case; she came here to see if there were any updates," Platt gives the fourth victim's mother a sympathetic smile before heading back down the stairs.

Mrs. Scott cleared her throat, "Sorry if I'm interrupting…"

"You're not interrupting," Hank breaks the semi-circle by stepping forward; he points his finger towards Burgess and Lindsay and waves them over, "Hi Mrs. Scott, these two here are Detectives Lindsay and Burgess, they'll take you to the breakroom and talk with you."

With Burgess hand pressed against Mrs. Scott's lower back, she guides the older woman towards their breakroom, "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sorry to disturb you all, I know you're busy working this case," Mrs. Scott whispered, smiling at Detective Lindsay when the young lady pulled a chair out for her to sit.

Burgess replied, "it's okay." She takes a seat next to the grieving mother with Erin on the other side. Kim scoots her chair closer as Erin pats Mrs. Scott's knee, encouraging her to speak.

"I just needed to check in. It's been weeks since Amanda's been killed and it's been weeks since her funeral, but I can't get the closure I need until the person who killed her is locked away."

"We're doing all we can Mrs. Scott."

"Call me Maura," the grieving woman corrects Erin.

Lindsay nods and repeats her earlier statement, "We're doing all we can Maura; you have my word. You're going to get closure and your daughter will get justice."

Most thought that investigating cases, chasing down criminals and interrogating suspects was the hardest part of the job and while those had its challenges, the hardest part for Erin –and now Kim- was talking with the families of the victims. Telling the loved one of the victim that they'll get justice was a slippery slope; no one ever knew for sure. The Intelligence unit has plenty of cold cases and the families of those victims didn't take the news well. Erin couldn't even look them in the face. However, just because she failed them, didn't mean she stopped trying. She gave every case her all and she made the promises to the new families as she did the old. It gave them hope. It gave them a chance for closure. It was the start of the grieving process for them.

"My husband doesn't even know I'm here." Maura admitted, swallowing the nervous bulge in her throat, "I've tried staying out of your way so you can do your job but-"

"You don't need a reason to come check in on our investigation," Erin interrupted.

"We can't share the details of it," Burgess reminded the grieving mother, "but just know, we're working hard to get justice for your daughter and the other women."

"I heard on the news that it's suspected the four women he killed here in Chicago weren't his first victims," Maura sniffs in; her hazel eyes are wide and she's looking back and forth between the two detectives.

Burgess is rubbing circles into her back, "No, we have reason to believe he started in Indianapolis."

"How does this happen?" the break in Maura's voice, the high-pitched tone in her question sends welling tears to Erin's eyes –stupid hormones- she was usually able to keep herself together, and while the tears didn't fall, she knew they were on their way; they would fall eventually. And with Maura crying, she knew it wouldn't be long. She's watching the older woman gather her thoughts before she started crying out, "Amanda was an adult, but she was still my baby!" Maura reaches for both Kim and Erin's hands and she squeezes them tightly once they're grabbed, "Someone just decided to take her from me! Why would they do that?"

"We don't know, but we're going to find out," Erin is confident in her reply. Her hand is already swallowed whole by Maura's larger one, but it doesn't stop Erin's thumb from rubbing against the back of it; it's comforting for Maura, it's actually soothing her.

"Are you two mothers?" She asks in the calmest manner.

"No," Kim smiles, feeling Maura's hand loosen from around hers, "Someday I will be, but I'm just waiting for the right, mature man…or I guess the man I'm currently with to grow up."

The second Burgess answers, Lindsay's hand subconsciously falls to her tummy. To the untrained eye, she wasn't showing, but to those who knew and looked really hard, they could spot her widened hips and the shaping of her small bump. Her silence and her hand placement was an answer for Maura; Erin didn't intentionally ignore her. She just didn't know how to answer it. She wasn't a mother…yet. She was pregnant. Does a pregnancy automatically make you a mommy or is it when the baby is born? Erin's hand brushed upon the fabric over her shirt; her palm is opened and it's covering most of her lower tummy.

"You're pregnant," Maura states as fact; she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Protect that baby with every fiber of your being. When the baby comes, you're going to feel a love that you've never thought was possible," Maura avowed; her eyes never once breaking eye contact with Erin's hand covering her small bump, "Amanda was my miracle baby. Her father and I were struggling to get pregnant for months and it started to weigh on our relationship," her eyes break away from Erin's tummy in order to stare down at her own fidgeting hands –shaking against her lap, "but one day, it was spur of the moment and the next thing I know, I was pregnant. I had a risky pregnancy and was put on bed rest at six months. She came early and she was in the hospital for over a month. When she was a teenager, she was in a horrible car crash. And when she was in college, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctors removed her breasts and she beat it. She beat cancer. She survived all of that and she was only 28."

"She sounds like an amazingly, strong woman," Erin complimented.

"She was," Maura agreed, separating her hands and shoving them under her thighs; it was the only way to keep them still, "…but how does a woman beat the odds of being born a preemie, beat the odds of surviving a car crash and beat the odds of breast cancer just to die by the hands of some maniac?!" She's sobbing and her hands remain jittery even under her legs; she removes them, "She was my only child. She was the first in our family to go to college. She was unemployed and the only reason she was at the club was to get a job. She wanted to work while looking for a permanent career somewhere else. I recommended it. I didn't want her just sitting on the couch, job searching all day. I told her to go out there and get a temporary job and look for permanent work during her off hours. I'm the reason she was at that club."

Erin's hand desperately reaches for hers, "It's not your fault."

"It is my fault, but I appreciate you telling me it's not." Maura hiccups through her tears; her shaking hand settles on top of Erin's, "It's my fault that my baby died!"

"I want to hug you right now. Is it okay if I hug you?"

Maura nods and the second she does, Erin swallows her frail body in a hug. Maura's black hair was peppered in grey and her up do had strands of hair falling down. Burgess disappears from beside her and returns seconds later holding a box of tissue. Erin keeps the older woman secured in her arms, and she feels Maura tighten the hold –she's holding onto Erin for dear life. She's holding onto the idea that maybe none of this was real; maybe she was holding Amanda. Amanda was a brunette; Amanda was white; Amanda was about her size. If she just closed her eyes for a few minutes, she could feel Detective Lindsay actually become Amanda. It's what stopped the sobs from building in her chest. The thought that her baby girl was back in her arms, however, the second Erin pulled back, the heavy weight of grief returned.

"Maura,"

She interrupts Detective Lindsay, "I should go. I held you two up long enough."

"Amanda wouldn't want you blaming yourself," Even though Maura cut her off the first time, Erin still chose to finish her sentence.

"From what you told us about your daughter, she sounds amazing," Burgess uses this moment as the opportunity to chime back into the conversation, "She sounds strong and wise and she would know that it wasn't your fault; you had no way of predicting this."

Maura starts crying all over again and Kim mentally beats herself for saying something; she felt that if she had kept her mouth shut, Maura wouldn't be sobbing right now. The grieving mother grabs a tissue from the box and dabs the corner of her eyes, "She survived being born at 28 weeks –seven months pregnant- she survived a car accident that killed everyone in the car, but her, and she survived breast cancer. She's been tested all these times throughout her life and this is how she goes?! I just don't get it. And now this psycho is out there, possibly preying on other women…and he had the nerve to take something from her –her breasts- of all things."

"Wait, Maura," Erin interrupts; while she truly feels bad for cutting the inconsolable mother off, the detective part of her kicked in and she had to say something before she forgot.

"Yes"

Erin repeats an earlier point Maura said, "Amanda had her breasts removed."

"Yes, because of the cancer."

"The perpetrator also took her breasts; how did he take something that was never there?"

"She had implants; she was self-conscious and saved up her money from the job she had in college and the one she worked after college before she was fired," Maura explains; she's confused and she reaches for another tissue to wipe the tears that continued to fall silently, "Detective Lindsay, do you think that had something to do with why she was killed?"

"The breasts he took weren't real," Burgess whispers; the statement is more to herself than anyone else. She makes eye contact with Erin, "How come you never told us this?"

"I honestly didn't think it was important," Maura answers Kim.

Erin stands from her seat; "Every piece of information, no matter how little you think it is, is important." She didn't know whether or not this meant anything, but it was worth checking out. She gently helped Maura to her feet, "How long has she had the implants?"

"She got the surgery two days before she was killed."

Burgess grabs a few more tissues and hands them over to Maura for her to take with her, "We'll find your daughter's killer. Erin already gave you her word and now you have mine." Maura peacefully closed her eyes and squeezed Kim's cheek –it was a silent thank you.

"Here's my card," Erin asserted, reaching into her back pocket and extending it to Maura, "Call me if you remember anything else; no matter how small Maura. It's important. And remember it's not your fault and please, don't forget that Kim's right. We'll find your daughter's killer. We're going to get justice for you and the families of the other women."

"I know you will," Maura gratefully sighs; she's hesitant and her hand twitches at her side as she chooses to extend it and set it upon Erin's lower tummy, "mother to mother, I know you will."

"We have to get back to work."

Maura smiles "Thank you and I'm sorry for just dropping by."

Burgess waves it off, "It's understandable; there's no need to apologize." She offers her arm and Maura wraps her arm through the younger woman's as she is led out of the breakroom. Kim had every intention of helping the fragile older lady down the inside and outside stairs.

Their departure left Erin alone in the breakroom. Her eyes still focused down on her stomach; she's staring at the placement Maura's hand was at moments before. It's weird having strangers or people you barely know pat and rub your belly no matter under what context. She stays standing; both of her hands eventually find comfort upon her lower abdomen. It's how Kim finds her when she finally returns. And Erin doesn't notice or feel herself being under the watchful gaze of her best friend until Burgess speaks up, "Do you think her implants have anything to do with her death?"

"He took them for a reason." Erin comments; she drops her hands and focuses in on Burgess as she walks into the breakroom, "It has to have something to do with his motive."

"None of the other women had implants."

"So why take them?" Erin retorts.

An unquestionable and unanswerable silence surrounds them. They're standing side by side in thought as they contemplate the new revelation. They honestly didn't know whether or not it had to do with anything involving the case. It could all be a coincidence, but it was worth checking out. For Amanda to have gotten surgery two days before being killed was too big of a coincidence for it to mean nothing. Erin is focused forward; her eyes gazing at the opened doorway. She's thinking hard about this; she's so concentrated in her thoughts that she didn't hear Detective West knocking against the opened breakroom door until Kim's voice filled the room, "Tyler, what do you want?"

He rolls his eyes at the exasperation in Burgess' voice; she sounded irritated, but he overlooks it as he steps further into the breakroom, "Did the mom tell you anything useful?" He curiously tucked his fingers into his front pockets –leaving his thumbs out and exposed, rubbing against his jeans, "What did she want?"

"You don't have to sound like her visit was an inconvenience," Erin remarked; she finds herself feeling protective of this woman –the mother to mother thing had gotten to her. It had connected her to Maura on a level that surpasses the ordinary association between the job and the victim.

Tyler shrugs, walking further into the room, "I just work better without the family checking in. So, what did she say?"

"We found her!" they hear Mouse yell; his voice is heard throughout the entire bullpen and breakroom. Whoever was planning to answer Tyler's question became distracted by Mouse's yelling voice, "We found her!" They rush out of the breakroom to find every Intelligence detective rushing over to Mouse's computer screen, "I found our first Chicago victim!"

Tyler stands behind Mouse's chair; he's slowly rewinding the footage to show them in slow motion, "You finally proved you aren't totally useless," Tyler arms are crossed, his hands tuck beneath his elbows, "Congrats." His comment goes ignored as Mouse plays the video. Atwater points to their first victim –Michelle Danvers- she's moving through the crowd and dancing with another man. The view of him is blocked; either the footage shows the back of his head or Michelle unintentionally blocks the front view. He seemed to either have luck on his side or he knew where both cameras were located.

Mouse stops the footage from playing after Olinsky's order. He attempts to zoom in, but the more he zoomed in, the blurrier the image had gotten. The lighting was still horrible, and all they could make out from the video is his dark hair. Whether it was black or brunette was still unanswered. His height, his age and even his race was unable to be detected in this image. The first victim had spent her entire time at the club hanging with this male figure; the team was almost certain that he was their culprit.

"Watch it again," Voight directed, sighing as he walks away from the computer, "and if you're still unable to get anything move on to the second victim; maybe you'll have a better chance at seeing his face in that footage."

Tyler scoffs, "I doubt it."

"Why?" Voight immediately turns around; his head is tilted and he's glaring at the detective. For a servant of the law, for a detective who basically forced himself onto this case, he rarely had anything to add. And when he did decide to open his mouth, it's often used to spout negativity.

"This guy is a genius; he knows how to cover his trail," Tyler explained; his voice was confident as he walked over to the whiteboard, "He has been doing this too many times to screw up. He's not going to get caught that easy." Tyler's finger points down against each victim's picture to back up his point.

Voight walks the remaining distance to his office, "Hopefully he has as much confidence in his abilities as you do. Too much confidence can cause a slip up, and a slip up is all we need." The sergeant had been ready to enter his office and shut the door; however he feels a hand tug against his arm, "What's up kid?"

She doesn't answer; she nods towards Burgess as she lifts the dry-erase marker and writes the word implants underneath Amanda's picture, "The breasts that were taken; they were fake."

Atwater is the first to respond, "What do you mean they were fake?" He rises from his seat and starts to walk over to Burgess; she's currently putting question marks beside each of the missing body parts of the other victims.

"They were fake." Erin restated; she rolls her eyes at the obvious confusion still evident on his face, "They were implants. I don't get what you don't understand."

Tyler is intrigued; his hands push back his suit jacket and grip his hips, "How do you know?"

"Maura…I mean Mrs. Scott told us." Burgess answered.

"I asked you earlier about whether or not she told you anything."

Kim remarked in response to Tyler's comment, "We got a little busy," she rolls her eyes and sets the marker down, "And we're telling you now."

"Why take Amanda's implants?" Dawson steered the conversation back on topic, "What significance do-"

"Wait." Erin interrupts; a thought crosses her mind, "Hand me Lucy's file." She doesn't know whether or not it'll lead anywhere, but she remembered something –something that may be important. Dawson runs over, swipes the file from his desk and rushes it over to Erin. She's standing; she's too antsy to take a seat and look through the folder. As Erin flips it open, she senses everyone approach, "What are you thinking kid?" Voight questions, looking over her shoulder as she flips through each page.

"I need to be sure before I say anything," she replies, stopping briefly on a page and skimming it with her eyes before flipping to the next page, "I remember reading something in Lucy's file. It was somewhere in the autopsy report," she turns to the third page of the report and pulls the sheet of paper out once her eyes locate the information she's been searching for, "Got it."

"What is it?" Dawson is craning his neck to peer down at the document from over Voight's shoulder. She grabs a highlighter and drags it over the sentence.

Erin holds it up, and points towards the highlighted statement written by the medical examiner, "All of Lucy's teeth were extracted from her mouth," she reads the words verbatim.

"Okay…" Ruzek drags out. It has yet to click; the connection is unclear to him.

"According to her autopsy report, the way the teeth were pulled and the markings left behind were different." Burgess explains, watching as Erin withdrew the x-ray picture of Lucy's mouth from the folder.

"Why?"

"…because they all weren't real," Lindsay answers Ruzek's question; he's scratching the bottom of his chin, combing his fingers through the short stubble, "Some of the teeth were implants." She continued to clarify, "He took her implanted teeth."

Dawson is looking down at the x-ray, "Why did he take her real ones too then?"

"He probably couldn't tell the difference," Erin offered the possibility; it was pure speculation, but it was something worth looking into.

"Yeah, at least we know he isn't a dentist," Tyler joked, earning the disapproving looks from his peers; it's frustrating for them as Tyler slides himself between Erin and Voight to look at the files. They're spread out all over her desk; they're unintentionally mixing in with other unrelated paperwork, but Tyler is still able to focus on the autopsy report.

"So Amanda's implanted breasts were taken and Lucy's implanted teeth were snatched. This may be something we're looking for; it can possibly lead to a motive," Voight summarizes, stepping away from his team huddled around Erin's desk, "I want you all to see if the body parts taken from the other victims were implants." He walks over to the top of the file cabinet, "Here Dawson, this is Shelby's file," he extends it and once Dawson grabs it, he watches the detective head back over to his desk, "Olinsky, here's Linda's file," Al approaches next and takes it from Voight, "Lindsay, I'm giving you Claire's file and Halstead, I'm giving you Michelle's file."

"Since I wasn't given a file," Tyler grabs an empty chair and drags it to Erin's desk, "I'll just work with you on Claire's casefile."

It sparks everyone's attention. Voight doesn't have it in him to argue; he has no basis to start one. He just gives Erin a look –a warning one- a look that tells her to be careful; one that reminds her of the fact that she's married; she's taken. Tyler's feelings for Erin are obvious. It took a lot for Erin to get to where she is today and Hank doesn't want her to ruin what she has built with Halstead. She has come a long way and he refused to allow some arrogant asshole to come between her marriage to the one guy he actually approved of; the one guy who has her back. He doesn't know what Tyler thinks he's doing –trying to weasel his way into the investigation only to try and woo Erin. When all is said and done though, and the case is over, Hank Voight will happily be sending Detective West on his way to wherever the hell he came from; the only reason he's been here as long was because of the six victims. They deserved to have all hands on deck; they deserved to have their case solved. Personal feelings and opinions shouldn't play a factor in the reason for keeping Tyler here; his ability to solve the case should be the defining factor.

"Thanks, but I don't need the help."

"I insist," Tyler replies; his arm is slung over the back of her desk chair, "An extra pair of eyes wouldn't hurt."

"West," Hank snaps out loud, "how about you go and make yourself useful?"

Since Tyler didn't work directly under him, he only followed orders when he agreed with them. Detective West had figured examining the file with Erin was exactly what he was being requested to do. Voight's eyes drift over to meet Jay's orbs; he notices his detective watching as Erin and Tyler debated over the case. She's trying to focus on highlighting and examining the file slowly, but he keeps trying to help. She works better alone –she works better when she wasn't with Tyler. He was a huge distraction, and how they're going back and forth over Claire's file and who will examine it, proves just how big of a distraction he can be. Jay is watching –he's trying to focus on inspecting the case file handed to him, but it's hard when Erin and Tyler are directly across from him looking over a case together. She eventually gives in. She lets him sit next to her, and they're both quietly looking over the file. His eyes occasionally drifting over to stare at the side of her face, while her eyes remain focused on the paperwork.

Jay finds himself unable to get pass the first page of Michelle's file; he's looked over it before, but now that they're supposed to reread the autopsy report, he can't seem to move pass the first sentence in the autopsy analysis. Voight's office door is closed, and he's peacefully sitting in his office while Halstead is forced to watch his wife and Detective West make peace as he reads the autopsy report from over her shoulder. If he reaches over her arm to turn a page –purposely allowing his hand to brush against hers- one more time then Jay is getting up. He's getting up and he's walking over; he's going to say something. Jay is watching –like a predator following his prey- he's waiting for the inevitable moment, and Ruzek notices. Halstead feels Adam's hand pat his shoulder to ease the tension in his body, "Kim says they're just friends, nothing more." Ruzek didn't have a file to look over, and in order to look busy, he reaches for Jay's and slides it towards him; both of their eyes staring at Erin and Tyler silently read the report.

"You and Kim notice it too?" Jay actually relaxes; he's been questioning himself and his mood. He never knew if he was overreacting or not, and since the entire team is picking up on the feelings Tyler is dishing out towards Erin then it's obvious; he has every right to act the way he's been acting and he is completely justified in feeling protective and territorial over his wife.

"I think we all do."

Jay turns his seat to face Ruzek –it's the first time he looks away from West, "Erin talks to Kim."

"Yeah…"

"And Kim talks to you…"

"…about most stuff. No secrets or anything; she won't betray Lindsay's trust."

Halstead sighs and turns his seat forward. He's watching Erin; she looks flustered as Tyler points out something in the autopsy report. She ignores it –deeming it unimportant to the case and then proceeds to finish reading it. He'll whisper comments every once in a while and she'll either chuckle or roll her eyes depending on what's been said. Jay looks back down and rereads the same sentence a fourth time; he can't focus.

"Something is up with Erin," he says through gritted teeth; it's annoying. Everything about Tyler is irritating; he's inserting himself into their case and he's trying to insert himself into his marriage. And the worse part about it all, Erin was allowing it.

"She's your wife. Talk to her," Ruzek reminds, knocking his shoulder against Jay's.

"She'll just say I'm either paranoid or jealous."

"You already tried talking to her?"

"I've been trying to talk to her for the last ten weeks; that's as long as Tyler has been here. She's acting weird and she's shutting me out," Jay asserts; he makes sure to keep his voice low and even. He absolutely didn't need for Erin, and especially Tyler, to overhear, "I even tried asking her about her doctor's appointment and she lied to me about it."

"Lied to you?"

"She said she was going to tell me about it later."

"And she didn't?"

"No," Jay remarks, "and that was six weeks ago," his voice growls and he realizes the more he talks about it, the more frustrated he grows, "I called her doctor and there's doctor-patient confidentiality even against her husband. I've been trying to talk to her for the last ten weeks about the obvious elephant named Tyler in the center of our relationship."

"Well what's taking you so long?"

Jay's eyes drift up to continue staring forward at Tyler and Erin, "She keeps distracting me."

"Distra…oh wait, with sex?"

"Yes," it's an embarrassed whisper; Jay sort of blushes.

Ruzek chuckles, "I need a wife like Erin."

"Come on dude, not cool."

"Okay sorry, continue…" Adam's interest is peaked and he covers his mouth with his hands to ensure his friend that he wouldn't interrupt him again.

"I see her and Tyler getting closer, I bring it up to her, we argue, say we're going to talk about it later at home and then once we get home she initiates sex."

"I seriously need a wife like Erin," Ruzek sighs after dropping his hands from his mouth, "I'd kill to have my girlfriend forget about our arguments and initiate sex with me." He quips; his eyes staring at Burgess as she looks over a file with Dawson, however, he soon starts to feel Jay's eyes burning into the side of his head, pulling back in his full undivided attention, "…but I digress. Anyway, have you told her this?"

"If you would stop fantasizing about my wife and actually listen to me for a second, you would have heard me say that I never have the chance to tell her. I'll bring it up here, and she'll get mad that I'm discussing our personal life at work, and when we get home, before I can bring it up again, she's all over me."

"Well, tell her no sex," Ruzek manages to say this with a straight face.

He's not joking. He's not being his usual Adam self. He's serious. When Jay looks at him, he can tell. He doesn't see a hint of a smile on Ruzek's lips. It's the best advice he could have came up with; it sounds obviously simple. And when Ruzek sees the complexity and the internal battle behind Jay's eyes, he laughs and decides to tweak his earlier comment, "Okay, tell her no sex until after you talk."

"You obviously overestimate my ability to say no to her and sex."

Ruzek pats his back, "Come on Halstead; don't be such a stereotype."

"This is Erin we're talking about; I can't just say no to her."

"Oh I know, but you're going to have to say no if you want answers."

It's quiet between them. Jay continues watching them and he sighs, "You're right," he hated to admit it, but it was true, "I can sacrifice a day of no sex to talk to my wife."

"A day?" Adam chokes out; his eyes widening to an unimaginable size, "You've been having sex every day?!"

"I told you, something has gotten into her."

"I thought married life was boring! I thought married people's sex life is nonexistent." Ruzek exclaimed; his voice reaches a new pitch –one that isn't considered an inside voice, "I want to have sex every day! I barely have it once a week!" Mouse spits out his coffee. It's a clear sign that everyone in the bullpen heard. Each person in the room looks over and it's so quiet, you can hear a pen drop. Ruzek's mouth, once again, will get them into trouble.

"Shush!" Jay snaps, shoving Adam's chair away from him. In his peripheral, he can see Burgess blushing; her face is redder than a tomato. She's absolutely embarrassed.

Adam clears his throat, "Sorry," and then he proceeds to grab a random book on the edge of his desk and pretend to read it. It's all an act; everyone can tell. He has no interest in the book.

Jay had been so focused on everyone else's reaction that he had forgotten about the most important reaction of them all; his wife. Her mouth is agape as she looks back and forth between Adam and Jay. Her hands are gripped around the armrest of her chair as she slowly pushes herself up, "Hey Jay, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I guess you're finally getting your talk," Adam muttered from behind his opened book. She nods towards the back hallway and without looking over her shoulder to make sure Jay saw, she walks away. She can hear his footsteps behind her as she leads him down the hallway and into the interrogation room; they needed privacy.

There are two hard chairs one positioned on each side of the bare and bland interrogation room. Erin ignores both as she begins pacing the small and cramped space. She waits to hear the door close and once it shuts tight, she turns to face her husband, "What's going on with you?" Her words come out calmly; the soft pitch in her tone surprises both of them.

"Erin-"

Her voice raises, "Are you talking about our sex life with Ruzek?"

"It's nothing," he brushes it off with the wave of his hand.

"It's not nothing!" She shouts, and stands in disbelief the second Jay opens the door to the interrogation room with every intention of leaving out through it, "Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Now you're in the mood to talk?" He questions, slamming the door and turning to face her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not in the mood for this."

"Fine," Erin mutters, reaching beside Jay to reopen the door, "I guess I'll see you later; we kind of don't have a choice."

Lindsay walks out of the interrogation room at the same time Tyler departs from the men's restroom. He opens his mouth to say something to her, and she simply raises her hand to silence him before he is able to utter a word. Tyler watches Erin walk down the hallway before disappearing back into the bullpen of Intelligence. He's left standing there as he sees Jay walk out of the interrogation room next, "Hey," Tyler calls out, extending his hand towards Halstead, "I'm sorry if I was the cause of that argument. I apologize for overstepping any boundaries."

"You know what," Jay smirks, scratching the little stubble beneath his chin, "you have a lot of nerve. You think you're so slick standing here, in front of me, trying to make peace when we both know peace isn't what you're after. You're not getting her, no matter what you do. Erin and I can argue all day and nothing will change. She's still coming home with me, to me. And you may think whatever little one-sided flirtation you have with her right now is going to last, but the second we close this case, you're out of here…and if Voight doesn't kick you out, I will."

"Just chill Detective Halstead," Tyler whispers, crossing his arms over his chest, "your girl has made it perfectly clear to me that she's not interested…at least not yet."

"You don't know what to say out of your damn mouth."

"What's your problem?" Detective West chuckles, stepping back the second Jay stepped towards him, "I haven't done anything to you."

Jay exasperatedly runs his hands over his face, "Are you seriously asking me that? My problem is that some poor excuse of a detective keeps coming for my girl."

"And you feel threatened…"

"I'm done talking to you," Jay replies, walking around Tyler in order to continue walking towards the bullpen. He doesn't want to argue, especially here. He doesn't want to give Tyler the satisfaction in thinking that he's impacting their relationship. This is between him and Erin.

Halstead had every intention of walking into the bullpen and continuing his work. He has to see if anywhere in Michelle's autopsy there was a connection between her and Amanda, or any of the other women. By the time, he made it to the water fountain, Tyler broke out into a light jog in order to catch up; he grabs Jay's forearm and gently pulls him to a stop, "If this is about the pink roses, then Erin has made it perfectly clear that I shouldn't have sent them to her." Jay wasn't going to stop walking; he was going to snatch his arm from Tyler's hold and continue on, but the second he hears about the roses, it draws in his curiosity.

"You're sending flowers to my wife?"

"Yeah, it was just once. You know this; I would assume that Erin told you."

Jay snatches his wrist free, "Stay away from my wife."

"I'm only looking out for her. You should be thanking me instead of showing your insecurities."

"Shut up."

"That day she wasn't feeling good; I got her dinner." Tyler continued on. He knew exactly what he was doing and as the rage built in Jay's eyes, he knew he was succeeding, "Her tire was flat and I drove her home. She was grateful, maybe you should be."

"You're talking about weeks ago?"

"Yeah,"

Halstead pushes him back, "Stay away from my wife," he warned, it comes across threateningly, "I'm not going to tell you again. She doesn't need anything from you."

"It never happened again."

Jay walks back into the bullpen to hear the team discussing. Michelle's file is in front of Ruzek and he sends his friend a nod of thanks, knowing Adam looked over it for him. From the discussion, they know that Shelby's nose wasn't fake; it throws off whatever they thought they were planning. Linda's fingers couldn't have been fake, and they weren't. The hair taken from Claire's head was all hers; her natural roots were stripped from her scalp. And Michelle Danvers had traces of some type of chemical, but the perpetrator took both her lips and her tongue. There seemed to be no linkage between any of the victims' body parts.

Voight had given up focusing on the body parts; they needed to focus on something that was going to lead them somewhere. They may come back to the body parts when it's necessary and if it has the potential to lead to something, but for right now, when Hank was in his office, debating over the facts of the case, he thought about the club owner. That nightclub was what all the Chicago victims had in common; there had to be something else up with it. It has to have some other sort of purpose. After getting Mouse to print out the photo of their first victim talking with some mystery man –their potential suspect- he holds it up to his team, "I want someone to go to talk with the club's owner. I know this picture isn't clear, but it's something. Show this to him, maybe he can tell us something based off this that we don't know."

"Lindsay and I can go; we can talk to the manager," Halstead volunteered; Erin is shocked to hear her husband offer their services to go somewhere together after he basically said he didn't want to talk to her minutes ago.

"I want someone who doesn't have anything to do," Voight responded, walking over to Ruzek and extending it towards him, "Ruzek take Atwater. Lindsay is still looking through the case file. She's busy, and you have to reread over Michelle's autopsy report; make sure Ruzek didn't miss anything." As he speaks to Halstead, Adam and Kevin grab their coats and are quickly out of Intelligence. It was getting late and they've been cooped inside all day. Everyone wanted the chance to get out, but work was almost over, so they had an hour or two left before they were all relieved of their duties until the next day.

Hank waves for Olinsky to follow him into his office; for all intents and purposes, they were partners. Al understood most decisions Hank made and he didn't judge him when he made the tough –sometimes illegal- choices. Olinsky closes the door behind him, leaving some of the team curious. Halstead was too absorbed by Erin's presence to worry about whatever Voight and Olinsky were talking about; usually he cared, but right now, he needed to talk to his wife. As she slowly flips the page, he walks up to her desk, "I need to talk to you. Alone."

She looks up at him briefly, "No." Her eyes look back down at the file. Tyler watches from his position near the whiteboard –he's smiling. He's amused and Burgess notices it.

"Erin, I'll look through the rest of that," Burgess offered; she walks over to grab Claire's file from Lindsay, "go talk to your husband." Her voice is serious; she's adamant about Erin talking with Jay alone, especially because Tyler seemed to find satisfaction when there was disturbance within her friends' marriage.

Erin looks up at Jay as Burgess snatches the file from her desk –without protest- and walks it back over to her own. She looks at her husband's eyes, and she sees desperation within them. She couldn't say no this time. She had to go. He needed to talk to her, and as his wife, she owed him that. Whatever he wanted to talk about, she owed it to him and their marriage to listen. Without another sign of protest or disapproval, she gets up from her seat and follows him back into the interrogation room; this time he locks the door behind them so neither are felt compelled to leave until everything was out in the open. It's private in here. No one would be able to hear them from the bullpen.

This time, she takes a seat in the hard chair. She doesn't know how long they'll be in here, and she's starting to not feel so good again. She's sitting in the cold, metal chair and her hands are intertwined above the table. Lindsay watches him start to pace and it begins to make her feel nervous; he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it right afterwards. He's struggling to find the words. He's looking for a good way to start off without yelling, without getting pissed and without shutting her out.

"I know." He settles on two simple words. He's still pacing.

"You lost me," Erin whispers; she smiles to ease the growing tension in the room, "What do you know Jay?"

"I know about the flowers Tyler got for you, and I know that you never told me."

"Who told you that?"

The suppressed anger suddenly bubbles up to the forefront, "Is that all you have to say Er? Really?" He stops pacing; he's standing on the other side of the table, facing her, "Your husband tells you that he knows that another man has been sending you flowers and all you can think of asking me is who told me?"

"I didn't think it was worth mentioning. I told Platt to get rid of them."

"So Platt knows?"

"Yeah," she rises to her feet, "only because they were left at the front desk."

"Who else knows?"

"…just Burgess."

Halstead turns away from her, "Great, they know. That's just great." He rests his forehead against the cement wall and sighs loudly.

"Jay, I didn't accept them. And I didn't give him any impression that I would."

"So him working late with you that day you sent me and Voight home because you wanted to be alone –that wasn't giving him the wrong impression?" Halstead backs up against the wall; he tilts his head back and closes his eyes; he's trying every technique he can think of to remain calm. It's hard; every part of him wants to yell, wants to tell her that he's a guy and he knows what guys think. He wants her to stop being so naïve and actually see Tyler as the man he is; the man who doesn't care or respect her marriage.

"That was after the flowers."

"You know what I mean!" Jay snaps; he backs further away from her. He can't go back anymore; he's basically flat against the cement wall.

"No, I didn't ask him to stay! He showed up –with food!"

"You should have asked him to leave." Halstead retorted, pushing away from the wall, "But you didn't. Instead, you let him stay, you had dinner with him and you let him drive you home."

"It was innocent!"

Jay laughs. It isn't filled with amusement; it's filled with bitter and pity. He can't believe she's serious. If the roles were reversed, she would be acting just like he is, if not worse. Instead of putting herself in his shoes, she's defending her actions, she's defending Tyler's actions; she's downplaying everything.

"You should have told me," the bitter laugh does calm him.

"There was nothing to tell! Nothing happened!"

"How am I even supposed to believe you?" He asks and the moment the question is posed, he sees the stoic look on her face crack, "You lied about everything else."

"I didn't lie!"

"Withholding stuff from me –from your husband- is still lying; it's lying by omission."

Erin rushes over to her husband, "He's irrelevant. This argument is dumb Jay!" She grabs onto his hand and he involuntarily snatches it away from her.

"So let me get this straight…" Jay starts, moving away from his wife, "Tyler buys you flowers and you don't say anything. He drives you home late at night after you basically ordered me and Voight out the door and you don't say anything. He brings you dinner that night and you don't say anything! And now you have the audacity to look me in my face and say I'm mad for no reason, that this dispute we're having is dumb?" He hollers and luckily the interrogation room is far enough away from the bullpen so no one could hear because if it were any closer, everyone would have heard, everyone would have come to check in on them, "What else have you not said anything about Erin?" He lowers his voice; he keeps it at a minimum volume, but the edge to it is still angry, "What else is going on with you two? Have you kissed him? Have you held his hand? Have you slept with him? What else is going on? Answer me!"

"Nothing!" She cries out, "Nothing is going on with us!"

"What else are you hiding then? What is going on with you?" Jay's voice breaks as he pulls a seat out to sit, "Ever since he came into the picture, you've been different."

"I promise this has nothing to do with him Jay. I'm pre-"

He cuts her off, "This has nothing to do with him? Are you serious?!" He's on a rollercoaster ride of emotions; his voice is yelling once again, "We've argued more these past few weeks than we've did in our entire marriage and it's always been about him!"

"No it hasn't. We rarely argue."

Jay smirks; he's in shock at Erin's ignorance, "Is that what you think? We rarely argue because you throw yourself at me? You use sex to shut me up."

"No I don't." She responds, rushing over to his side, "Jay, just let me explain; I'm preg-"

"Erin, if you feel the need to hide something from me, lie to me about it, or feel bad because of it, chances are you shouldn't be freaking doing it!" He keeps cutting her off. He doesn't want to hear what she has to say and how she chooses to justify her actions.

"I didn't do anything."

"Exactly; it's what you don't do that makes Tyler think he actually has a chance with you."

She sighs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "He just needs someone."

"And that someone has to be you?" He turns in his seat to face her; she's sitting against the corner of the table.

"You're not going to do it."

"No. I'm usually not the first one to volunteer to help the man who has been hitting on my wife for weeks."

"Jay!" Lindsay exclaims.

"Erin," he interrupts whatever she was going to say, "please just…just give me some space."

"What?" She watches him stand up and move towards the door.

"I just need to be alone right now. I need to think."

"You haven't even listened to-"

He interrupts her again, "I said I need to be alone; I need to think!" Jay snaps, and Tyler watches.

Detective West watched the whole thing on the other side of the one-way mirror. He peered into the entire argument seconds after Jay locked him and his wife in the interrogation room. Seconds before Jay unlocked the door, Tyler departed from the connecting room. He leaves out with a smug grin across his face. It remains there the rest of the day. It's settled there when Erin leaves the interrogation room. It doesn't leave as they work the last two hours of the day. And it definitely doesn't leave when he notices Jay and Erin avoid each other the remainder of the day. When the work day was over, he doesn't even see them make plans for dinner like they usually do. Jay quietly gets into her car and leaves. He waits for Erin, but when he sees her hop into a taxi, Halstead pulls out of the parking spot and decides to head home. Tyler has every intention of prying for details tomorrow, but for tonight, he stops in front of Mollys'. It's been his nightly routine. He finds himself coming here more and more often since he started working with the Intelligence unit. And to his surprise, he finds a familiar face, sitting at the bar. It's a face he hasn't seen here since he started coming, and after spotting her, he grooves to the music in his quest to approach the bar stool beside her.

Erin is sitting –crying- and nursing a virgin strawberry daiquiri. She really wanted a drink, but she couldn't because of the growing baby in her body. She's drinking virgin drinks and imagining that it has liquor content within it. Tears have been trickling down her eyes ever since the taxi left the district, and they continued to fall even when Tyler takes a seat in the empty barstool next to her.

"Did you follow me here?" She asks, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands.

"No, I heard Mollys was the hangout spot so I decided to check it out a few weeks ago," He admitted, scooting himself closer to the bar top, "I've been coming here after work a lot. Ask anyone in here." The second he finished talking, Erin notices Gaby wave at Tyler; she walks over and even personally greets him.

"Your usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Gaby."

Gaby walks away, and Tyler turns in his seat to face Lindsay, "See I told you."

"…my apologies," she lifts her virgin drink and finishes the last drop.

"Erin Lindsay is crying over a guy." Tyler asserted, reaching over to pull a piece of imaginary lint out of her hair, "Nope, pick your head up princess before your crown falls off." Erin smiles, and sniffs in –holding back her tears. It pulls a grin onto Tyler's own face, "Is that a smile I detect?"

"We really shouldn't be talking. You've done enough."

"So, we can't talk with one another because your husband said so?" He asks, he gives Gaby a kind smile when she sets his drink down in front of him, "I honestly didn't take you for one of those girls who does everything a man tells her."

Erin argued, "I don't do everything a man tells me!" There's a fire behind her eyes; there's passion in her words. She's never been one of those types of girls and she didn't appreciate him implying it. Tyler is peering into her eyes, observing the passion and watching as her eyes sparkle beneath the lighting at the bar. She sees his eyes relax; he's mesmerized by her orbs, and she laughs to break the mood, "Shut up," he chuckles before he has another chance to attempt to flirt, "you wouldn't be able to handle me."

"Is that an invitation to try? I can literally look into your eyes all day." Tyler is beaming; smiling ear to ear. And Erin sighs. It kills the mood. He's happy and basically bouncing in his bar stool while she miserably tries to keep a fake smile on her face. He can see straight through it, and after taking a small sip of his drink, he turns back to face her, "Want one?" He holds up his glass and it earns Gaby's attention; she starts fixing him another.

"I can't," she sighs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face, "I'm pregnant," the revelation causes him to spit the small sip of alcohol out of his mouth as she continues, "I was never sick with the flu or anything. I'm just pregnant. I'm almost three months."

"Well if it's any consolation," his eyes drift down to her tummy, "you're not really showing."

"Thanks."

Erin turns forward in her barstool and stares at the alignment of alcohol bottles. She didn't want any –it was just the only thing in her line of sight. She hears Gaby and Tyler talk briefly as she gives him another drink; he finishes his first one before sliding the empty glass down to the bartender. He stirs the skinny black straw around his brown drink, and he takes a tiny sip before turning back to face her, "How did Halstead take it?" he's curious to know.

"He doesn't know…" Erin sighs, and the second she admits her, she immediately turns to face him, "And you better not say anything. The last thing he needs is to find out from you."

"My lips are perfectly sealed…" He takes his fingers and drags them across his lips –mimicking a zipper, "…awaiting contact with yours."

She shoves his arm, "Oh shut up."

He managed to pull a brief smile onto her lips, but it didn't stay. It disappeared the second she remembered exactly why she's here; why she's at a bar alone instead of celebrating baby news with her husband. She remembers their argument. She remembers the look on Jay's face.

"What's wrong? You can talk to me."

"It's nothing you can help me with."

Gaby walks over and takes her empty glass. Erin declines the offer of another drink. She's sliding the empty glass back and forth in her hands; she's playing with it like a toy. She occasionally sniffs in and blames the emotions on her pregnancy. It makes it easier than actually blaming herself for the tears threatening to fall.

"Why not?" Tyler nudges his shoulder against hers, "I'm a great advice giver. I'm a wonderful problem solver. I'm just all around a great guy."

"…not when it comes to respecting boundaries," Erin mutters; she finds herself mindlessly turning the wedding band around her finger.

"I look at it like never giving up."

"You should though."

"Is that what's bothering you?"

Erin sucks in a deep breath and slams her hands against the bar top, "Why would you tell Jay about the roses, about the dinner and about taking me home?"

"I assumed you told him. I'm sorry; it was under my impression that telling your spouse about stuff like that is what happens in a healthy marriage."

"Our marriage is healthy," Erin corrected through gritted teeth; she's back facing forward.

"…if you say so. Who am I to tell you it's not?"

"You're right. Who are you to tell me that?"

"…just an unbiased outsider looking in."

"Unbiased huh?"

Tyler chuckles; he had to give it to her, she knows she's right. He doesn't argue with the truth. And while he urged her to speak up and just get everything off her chest, he knew that by his insistence, she would do everything in her power to close herself off –to shut down and withdraw herself from the situation.

"Do I have regrets?" She suddenly exclaims; it comes out of nowhere and catches him off guard, "You bet your ass I do, but they're about what I didn't do, not what I've done."

"What do you regret?"

"…not telling my husband about us."

"So, there is an us," Tyler gleams, winking his eye and bumping his shoulder against hers.

"No, you misinterpreted."

"We have more than a friendship, but less than a relationship," Tyler clarifies, tossing his arm around Erin's shoulders, "…at least for right now."

"I'm married," she shimmies her shoulders from beneath his arm.

"…at least for right now."

"We're not friends."

"Are you in denial Ms. Lindsay?"

"I'm married."

"I'm okay with that."

Her eyes glance down to her stomach, "I'm pregnant."

"I'm okay with that too," he chuckles.

"That's so not funny."

"Come on Erin; loosen up." He urges, his smile widens when another glass is set down in front of him, "Life is so much funnier when you have a dirty mind."

Lindsay has another uncontrollable urge to cry; she keeps thinking back to the look on Jay's face. He looked so sad, so disappointed and so betrayed. This case was getting to them all; it was making them believe things that weren't true and it was causing a rift in their seamless marriage. Erin just wanted to get back to her life before this case and before Tyler came into the picture. A tear rolls down her face, and before it approaches the end of her cheek to roll off her face, it's wiped away; the second tear is wiped away seconds afterwards.

"Stop; that's inappropriate."

"How is a guy wanting you to stop crying inappropriate?" Tyler asks, wiping his damp fingers against his pants, "Your husband isn't here to do it so somebody has to."

"That someone doesn't have to be you," she asserts, turning her seat around so they're facing each other –knee to knee- staring into each other's eyes, "Let's stop talking about this. Enough about me; I want to hear about you and your quest for the perfect love." Lindsay felt like she was hanging out with one of her girlfriends; she's relaxed and her hand pats his knee, "Has she disappointed you yet?"

"Who?"

"Your perfect girl."

"If anything, I think she's even more perfect."

"Hmm," Erin whispers, pulling her hand away, "I would hate to see her break your heart."

"I don't think she'll do that."

Erin found it adorable how Tyler only saw the perfections in his female friend, but she was a little concerned at the fact that he's unintentionally overlooking her imperfections. It's one thing to be aware of someone's imperfections and overlook them because you love them and you realize that the imperfections aren't what makes someone less of a person, but it's another thing when you're ignorant to their imperfections because you truly don't want to believe that the person you're fond of, the person you love, could possess such inadequacies. It's what makes us human. And there's nothing wrong with that.

A man approaches, "You look like you need a drink." He speaks before Erin has the chance to respond to Tyler, "Hey, can I have a shot of tequila over here for my lady friend?"

"I'm fine really. I don't want a drink." She can smell the strong hint of alcohol on his breath and chooses to kindly send him on his way. Erin shakes her head at Gaby, informing the firefighter to not pour her a shot of tequila.

His response is loud, "What? You're too good to accept a drink from me?"

"I didn't say that." She whispers; she didn't feel like arguing, and with this man, she hoped the truth would shut him up and send him on his way, "I'm pregnant."

"Yeah right," he scoffs, "…you wouldn't be here if you were."

"I don't want to argue with you. Save your money or just drink it yourself."

"You have a lot of nerve lady! You don't get to just disrespect me and-"

"What are you talking about?" Erin exclaims, stepping down from the barstool, "I'm being polite to you! I'm trying not to be rude!" She's significantly shorter than him, and even with her small baby bump, she's significantly smaller than him.

He towers over her and peers down to meet her eyes, "You come in here looking down on me like I'm some sort of drunk!"

"If the shoe fits…" she doesn't back down; she's in no mood to argue, especially with a drunk.

The man is boiling; he's enraged. The smell of alcohol emits from his breath and his pores. The alcohol controls his thought-process, it controls his speech and as he stumbles towards her, it controls his balance. He grips onto the edge of the bar to steady himself. Erin looks over to see Tyler step down from the barstool and take a step beside her. He gently elbows her side –being mindful not to hit her stomach, "Don't make a scene Lindsay."

"Tyler-"

"What's that supposed to mean lady?" The stranger drunkenly snaps; he earns a few looks from some of the other nearby bystanders. The group of friends he came with is watching from the other side of the bar –they're smiling, appearing almost as drunk as he is. And before Erin could send him on his way back to his friend group, she hears Tyler whisper in her ear once again, "Don't make a scene."

"I'm not going to make a scene," Erin snaps; Tyler constantly telling her what not to do was driving her crazy. It wasn't helping the situation.

"You know what; women like you irritate the hell out of me!"

Tyler mutters, "Don't Erin."

"I told you that I'm not going to make a scene!" She snaps at Tyler before turning back to the stranger, "Please just leave me alone."

The man continues, "You sit on your little high horse and judge me! Well, maybe you should look in the mirror and see the imperfections looking right back at you bitch."

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Erin retorts and before he can open his big mouth and respond, she continues, "I may look small. The tears may make me look fragile. And I might even seem to be a quiet and defenseless woman, but I'm telling you, you do not want to mess with me! I did not come here to be pestered, to be flirted with and definitely not to be offered drinks. I came here to get away from the stressors in my life and now you're one of them! Get away from me! Leave me the hell alone! And most importantly just fuck off!"

By the end of her rant, she's calm. She watches him walk away. And she's left standing with Tyler; out of embarrassment, she turns to face him, "I made a scene." It comes out in a whisper.

"Yeah you did." He replies, tossing an arm around her shoulders, "Okay, how about we get out of here before he comes back with his friends," Tyler nods towards the direction of the man chatting it up with his friends, "You kind of made him look like an idiot and less of a man."

"He did that to himself. And he's not seriously going to come back with friends to hurt me."

"He's drunk; he's not thinking clearly. I wouldn't put anything pass him," Tyler remarks, watching as the man and his friends occasionally look over towards them.

"I'm not ready to go home just yet." Erin sighs, turning back to her seat, preparing to climb back up onto the stool, "My husband needs his space…so I'll take my chances here. I'm pregnant and I doubt he would hurt a pregnant woman."

Tyler extends his hand towards her, "I wouldn't be so sure; come on. We can have a nightcap at my place so you can continue doing everything possible to avoid going home."

"Fine," she sighs, setting her hand within his and allowing him to lead her out of the bar. She hears catcalling from the group of men, and after sending them a wave of the middle-finger, she's gone. She's out in the pouring rain, jogging towards Tyler's car.


	7. Surveillance Videos

When the bright beam of sunlight shines through the opened blinds of the window, Erin finds herself forced to peel her eyes open. She's lain faced down; her arms wide open and palms flat against the sheets. She groans; it's the first night in ten weeks –now eleven as today is the start of a new week- since she has slept through the night –no frequent trips to the bathroom to either pee or puke. It was a successful night of slumber. As Erin sits up onto her knees, her eyes immediately close; the sun is too bright. She groans again while attempting to ease them back open. Erin's hands run over her face –her eyes open again- her hands fall down to the bed and grip the sheets. She has to work, but she's still tired. It'll only get worse as her pregnancy progresses and then when the baby actually comes, she can kiss a peaceful, full night of sleep goodbye. The baby; the thought of her baby creates a smile on her lips. A new life –a conception- her baby is a being created out of love and Jay didn't know. She's embracing in the pregnancy alone –with only Burgess, Platt and now West in the loop.

Jay needed to know; he needs to find out as soon as possible. He has every right to be a part of this process as she does. Erin has always known that Halstead wanted kids eventually, but it was always understood and assumed that eventually was down the road; it was not eleven weeks ago and it definitely wasn't six months from now. She didn't know how he would take the news; it was a surprise to her and she can only imagine how shocked he'll be when he finds out. Shocked –and angry- especially after finding out how long she has known about it. Erin has work today. None of them has had a day off in weeks and it's beginning to take its toll on her body. She's drained. She runs her hands through her hair as her eyes scan the nightstand. She expects to find a digital clock –the time written in bright red- however, she sees the bare top of a nightstand. It's empty. It's immaculately clean; no sigh of dust or clutter in sight.

Lindsay's eyes drift from the nightstand and falls down to her lap. She's sitting on her knees –in the middle of the bed- she's staring at her palms, now resting back on the sheets. They're resting on sheets that she doesn't recognize. It's a pattern that she has never seen before; it's foreign to her, and it has the scent of fresh washed laundry. Erin now knows, it doesn't take much for her to realize that she isn't home. She's not in her bed. She's dazed out from exhaustion and she's sitting in the middle of Tyler's king-sized bed.

"Good morning sunshine," he greets, walking into his room while holding up a tray of breakfast, "You were so exhausted last night that you fell asleep on the couch," he chuckles at the memory, "I couldn't wake you, so I carried you upstairs and laid you in the bed," Tyler sets the tray down in front of her, "and don't worry, I slept in the living room."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she admits, climbing out of the bed, "I should really be getting home. My husband is probably worried about me!"

Tyler picks up the food tray, "I made you breakfast in bed."

"My husband," she whispers, bending over to grab her shoes neatly positioned onto the shoe rack, "my husband is probably scared to death right now. It's not like me to not come home regardless of whether or not we're mad at each other. I need you to take me home Tyler."

"I'll take you after you eat something," Tyler remarks, holding the tray of food out towards her, "you need to keep that baby fed."

Erin doesn't argue; regardless of how badly she wanted to get home, he was right. She was growing a baby inside of her and no matter what was going on in her life and the world around her, she had a duty, a responsibility, and it was to take care of her baby to the best of her ability. And with that understanding, she doesn't rebut his statement. She simply grabs two slices of bacon and a piece of toast from the tray, "I'm ready." Her mouth is full as she throws in the dry piece of bread; it's without butter and bland, but it took the imminent growl off her belly.

"Alright," he agrees, "I'm still in my pajamas. Let me throw on some clothes and then I'll be all set to take you home."

"Okay, I'll wait by the door."

She departed from his bedroom, and it was the first opportunity she had since she arrived to actually take in his house. It was a two-floor house and it was perfectly cleaned and designed. Nothing –with emphasis- was out of place. There wasn't a dirty dish, an ounce of dust, or a crooked picture or piece of furniture anywhere in sight. It almost seemed too perfect; it was something like a show house -a house only used to show to potential buyers.

Lindsay reaches the front door, and the low temperature in the house sends a shiver through her body. She wraps her arms around her waist and realizes that she's missing something; she's missing her jacket. It was the early fall; she wouldn't have went anywhere without a coat. Erin takes a peek in the living room –nothing stands out. His walls are bland and his furniture practically blends in with his walls. Her navy blue jacket would have stood out if it was in the room. Lindsay moves to the staircase, steps onto the bottom stair, and leans against the bannister, "Tyler," she shouts, her head tilted up, "Where's my jacket?"

"Check the coat closet!"

"The coat closet," she whispers to herself; she had no idea where that is. It's usually near the front door. After taking the one step down, she walks down the long, elongated hallway to approach the door closest to the front door. She reaches for the knob, "this must be it." She turns the doorknob, but is met with resistance. It's locked. She twists the knob again, but it doesn't move. She's yanking it –maybe it's jammed.

"That's not the coat closet," Tyler calls out, standing at a door further down the hallway, "this is the coat closet," he opens it, extends his hand inside and pulls out her jacket."

"Thank you," Erin sighs, catching her jacket after it's thrown in her direction, "…and what is this room?"

"Off limits," he answers; it's quick, and in order to avoid further questioning, he leads her to the front door and opens it. Erin is smiling –sliding her arms into the sleeves of her jacket- she zips it up. As the front door sits open, a sharp breeze rips through the house. She shivers again. And suddenly she feels Tyler's hand press against her lower back, "Let's get you home." Lindsay looks back at the locked door –her curiosity in overdrive. She shakes it out of her head and proceeds to walk out of the door –Tyler following closely behind.

From a distance, Tyler unlocks his car door; Erin gets to it first and lets herself into the passenger seat. By the time Tyler even opens the driver's side door, she's buckled in and ready to get home. Detective West is dressed in his suit, his tie draped over his shoulder; it's not yet tied around his neck. He takes a look at his appearance in the rearview mirror. Grabbing his tie, he begins wrapping it around the collar of his dress shirt, and tying it up around his neck, "You know the dress code isn't so formal."

Tyler laughs, "It never hurts to be dressed up and put together."

"Hey," she hits his arm, "I'm put together even while wearing jeans and a t-shirt; I'm just comfortable in my outerwear."

"Sometimes beauty is pain."

"It doesn't have to be," Erin commented. She watches as Tyler buckles in his seat belt before starting the car. He puts his vehicle into drive and pulls forward out of his parking spot.

The ride starts off quiet. No music on the radio is playing. There are hardly any car horns, sirens or shouts of profanity flooding the streets and their ears in the nearby cars. It's a quiet and peaceful ride. It's a ride whose silence disturbs both passengers. It's a ride whose silence is broken the second Tyler clears his throat to spark a conversation with his passenger, "You know, we never got to finish our conversation from last night," he stops at a red light and turns to face her as another lanes light turned green, "You kind of fell asleep."

Erin uses her thumb and pointer finger to wipe the corner of her mouth, "Sorry," she gives him an innocent smile, "that was honestly not my intention. You should have just woken me up. I was not planning to spend the night."

"I know, but you looked so peaceful, I couldn't bring myself to disturb you."

"You carried me upstairs."

"I wanted you to at least sleep comfortably," he responds. The light turns green and he eases his foot off the brake.

Erin sighs loudly –her head falls back and presses against the headrest, "I should have sent Jay a text so he wouldn't worry about me," her hands fidget in her lap, "Um where's my phone?" She sits up straight and begins patting her pockets. It's the last place she remembers seeing it.

"Check your purse."

Erin unzips her purse, extends her hand inside and sighs at the feeling of her cell phone. She pulls it out to find it dead. It's completely out of battery and her charger was at home. Her hand gripped around the smartphone, "That's just great…" she blows out, throwing the phone back into her purse. It's dead. A dead phone will do absolutely nothing for her; she can't even send her husband a text telling him she's on her way.

"Hey, you'll be home to your guy in less than ten minutes," Tyler reassured, steering his car onto the highway and merging into the early morning traffic, "Are you two seriously that couple that can't stand to be away from each other?"

She shifts in her seat, setting her elbow against the side of the door, "No, we're not clingy. It's just he has no idea where I spent the night. If I were him, I would be worried sick. And it's not like me not to tell him where I'm going…"

"You two are arguing."

"He's still my husband; I still tell him where I'm going."

"I learn something new every day."

Lindsay feels a light spell of nausea form within her lower abdomen. She's heard of women who have went through their entire pregnancy without morning sickness, and here she is constantly nauseous and throwing up for the entire three months she has been with child. She tries to get comfortable. She adjusts the seat belt strap so it's not as tight over her bulging belly, but it's only so much comfortability she can grasp in a small and tight space. After leaning her head back against the headrest, she clears her mind –she takes her thoughts far away from her queasiness, "So, we never got to finish our conversation yesterday, what were we talking about?"

Tyler answers, "Me…"

"What did you tell me?" She closes her eyes and tries to allow the ride to soothe her nausea.

"I told you about my parents and how they died when I was 16."

She reopens her eyes, "I'm sorry."

"I got over it."

Lindsay sits up, and partially turns her body to face him, "Can you really get over something like that?"

"I did."

They reach another red light the moment he pulls off the highway. It's a long one, especially with the morning rush hour. The serene suburban area is calm, and allows for them to lower their guards. Erin's still nauseous, but her mind is preoccupied with Tyler and his admittance. She already knew from an earlier conversation with him weeks ago that his parents were abusive and were murdered. It's all she really knew about them. And that wasn't good enough for her, she wanted to know more; her interest was definitely peaked.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did they die?"

He shakes his head –an obvious signal that he doesn't mind, "They were murdered –strangled in the living room-; their death and finding them is actually what drove me to become a cop," Erin notes how Tyler speaks of his parents death as if he's taking about the weather; it's so casual and informal. His fingers drum against the steering wheel as he eases his foot down on the brake at a stop sign, "Isn't that ironic though?" He briefly turns to face her; they're sitting at the stop sign longer than intended, "They were killed in the living room. That has to be some form of irony."

"Did you go into the foster care system?"

"I did."

Erin rests her right hand behind her head; her elbow pressed against the window, "And how was that?"

"Horrible, I ran away a few times and then when I turned 18 I finally aged out of the system."

"What did you do after that?"

"I moved around a lot."

"You're not from here?"

Tyler lightly chuckles; he's carefully and precisely merging the vehicle into the farthest left lane, "No, I thought I mentioned this to you. I was born in Joliet, Illinois and I lived there until my parents died. I bounced around the state and then at 18 I joined the police academy in Indiana."

"How long have you lived in Chicago?"

"I've been here for almost a year," Tyler answers; the car pulls up and turns onto Erin's street; he slows the vehicle down to a few pegs below the speed limit; he didn't want the ride to end so soon, "What about you? Are you from Chicago?"

"Born and raised," she proudly asserted. She was a Chicago native and damn proud of it.

"Where are your parents?"

The smile on her face faltered, "That's a good question;" she scratches the bottom of her chin, "it's one I'm not really interested in finding out the answer to though."

"Are they dead?" He cuts right to the chase. It's the question he's been pondering for the last few minutes. She knew about the state of his parents and he wanted to know the same of hers.

"More like dead to me, but they're both alive and well."

"And Voight?"

"He's the parent I've always wanted. He's the dad I needed." Erin declared; she's speaking from the heart as she thinks of her foster dad, "For all intents and purposes, he's my family…way more than my biological parents."

They're five houses away from hers. There are barely any cars on the road in the residential neighborhood and they technically should have already been at her house, but the conversation kept her distracted and him, entertained. She's looking at him –completely unaware that they're even on her street. Tyler stops briefly at a stop sign and glumly sighs, "So we both came from screwed up families?"

"How was your family screwed up?"

"They were verbally abusive –not towards me, but to each other."

"I'm sorry that you had to be raised around that," she says, extending her hand to pat his shoulder, "It can't be easy hearing your parents talk down to each other. That had to be rough. What else made your family so screwed up?"

"They had faults…a lot of them."

"Faults," Erin repeats the word; it's said more to herself than to him. She utters it once more before looking out of the window and realizing where she is; she's two houses down from hers. In less than a few seconds, she'll be home, but until then, she turns back to glance at Detective West, "Imperfection doesn't automatically equal screwed up Tyler," the car is placed in park and she makes no movement towards the door, "Imperfections are normal, no one is a perfect parent, but it's how they use those imperfections to make sure they don't impact the welfare of the child that makes a family the opposite of screwed up. Dysfunctional yes, but what family isn't. Your parents yelled at each other. Verbal abuse or just plain arguing married folks; I'm not here to tell you the difference between the two, but your parents raised you, and you seem like a good guy, they obviously couldn't have been that bad. Before Voight, Camille and Justin, my family was screwed up. My mom was and is probably still a drug and alcohol addict looking for husband number six. My dad has been in and out of prison since I was a kid. My mom enabled me to do drugs after I lost a close friend of mine. My dad hasn't reached out to me since I was born. They're textbook screwed up, but I digress, what I'm trying to say is, no matter how much I despise them, I'm the woman I am today because of them –and the Voights."

The car is parked. Tyler's foot is off the pedals. His hands are no longer on the steering wheel. His body is turned completely to face her, "It always amazes me how parents like that could make a perfect person like you."

She purposely chooses not to reply to that comment. She's already spent time talking with him about the idea of perfection and how it doesn't exist. It's a figment that people aim to reach, but it's unattainable. There's always room for progress. There's always room for more. There's always room for better. To spend your life trying to reach perfection is a waste of time. Your time is better spent doing what you love, what you enjoy with those you hold dear to you. You're supposed to be comfortable with your strengths and weaknesses – confident in your flawed life.

"I want you to know that I had fun last night," Erin easily changes the subject; he doesn't even notice the subtle change of conversation as she unbuckles her seatbelt. She grabs her purse from between her lap and turns to face Tyler one last time, "Even though I fell asleep mid-conversation, I appreciated the company," she reaches for the door handle and pulls it open, "I usually like to handle my problems on my own or keep them to myself, but it felt good to get it off my chest. It felt good to have a new ear to listen."

"That's what I'm here for."

She steps out onto the curb; her hand holding the frame of the door, "And I honestly think I enjoy our conversations more than I think I should."

"The feeling has always been mutual," he nods.

"I'll see you at work later," Erin shuts the door, and the passenger side window is soon rolled down so Tyler could reply one last time, "I'm about to head straight into work right now. I'll see you there in a few."

Erin stands on the curb and makes no movement towards the house until Tyler's car takes a turn off her street. She smiles to herself and backs away slowly; her jacket zipped up, her purse on her shoulder and her hands tucked into her coat pocket. She walks up the sidewalk, through the small front yard and up the few porch stairs. Lindsay is in a good mood; a smile is stretched across her face as she grabs her keys and unlocks her front door. She needed to get ready for work and unwind a bit before diving head first back into this case. Last night was the one night in a long list of weeks that she thought of something other than their case. It was rare. It was surprising. Normally a case lasted this long consumed her thoughts on and off work hours; last night was different and so was this morning.

Lindsay walks into the house and tosses her keys onto the side table positioned near the front door. She sees Jay's keys already there. He was still home. They would probably end up taking separate cars into work today. She locks the door behind her before heading straight down the hallway; her upstairs bathroom is her final destination, but her plan is forgotten the second she sees Jay sitting at their dining room table –positioned in the middle of the kitchen- he's drinking a fresh cup of coffee. He gives her a small smile that never reaches his eyes. His hands are around his mug of coffee and he pulls it from his lips, "Glad to see you home."

"I'm glad to be home," Erin replies, walking over to open the fridge.

Jay removes his hands from around his mug, "Where have you been?" He asks, leaning back in the chair. He's dressed, relaxed and had every intention of heading into work once he finished his coffee. There was nothing like a fresh cup of coffee from home; it beat the cheap tasting coffee offered to them in the breakroom.

"Why do you care?" Lindsay remarks, grabbing the pitcher of orange juice; she slams the refrigerator closed behind her.

"I'm your husband."

She grabs a glass cup, "My husband who wants space... Am I right?" Her eyes briefly glance in his direction before averting back to pouring herself a fresh cold glass of orange juice.

"I just needed time to clear my head…that's it. I'm not asking for divorce or a separation."

"I went to Mollys."

"And then where?" Jay's cup of coffee is long forgotten as he rises from his seat, "You've been gone all night and I was worried because you weren't answering your phone."

"It died and I stayed with a friend."

"It wasn't Kim; I called her."

She places the pitcher back into the fridge, "I have other friends Jay."

"What friend Erin?" He asks –already knowing the answer- he leans his hip against the countertop as his arms cross against his chest.

"I stayed with West," she answers before taking a large sip of juice.

"You've got to be kidding me!" He exclaims, pushing himself away from the counter. Erin had already assumed that would be his reaction and she was willing to accept it, but the look on his face is what took her for a surprise. The crease in his brows, the pout of his lips, the frown lines and the absolute confusion and irritation in his eyes is what pulls her in to explain herself, to tell him what she has already told him many times before; she doesn't want Tyler.

Erin finishes her last sip of orange juice. She's trying to remain calm as she allows the fruity beverage to settle her stomach. Her empty hand rests upon the countertop and her fingers drum a silent beat –one that's playing in her head- it's a way to keep her calm. She has her cup, she moves towards the sink and she starts doing the three dishes inside of it.

"It wasn't to spite you Jay," Erin calmly contends; the tranquility in her voice surprises the both of them as she continues, "It wasn't planned. It just happened."

"It seems a lot of stuff just happens."

"It's too early for this." Erin asserts, turning on the faucet water and allowing it to fill the sink, "I'm sorry I didn't come home." She admits as she begins washing the dishes, "I'm sorry I didn't call to let you know. Time seemed to pass by so fast, and you were mad at me and I was mad at you, and I didn't want to come home right away because of this conversation right now."

"This conversation?"

"Yes," she abruptly turns to face him; the faucet water still running behind her, "I really don't want to argue with you. It's pointless. I love you." She reaches beside herself and opens the dish washer, "I love you." She looks back up at him –her eyes meeting his, "I love you. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

He sets his hands against her shoulders, "I know you love me Erin; that's not the problem," he maintains the contact that she initiated, "The problem is Tyler. He doesn't respect our marriage, he's trying to come between me and you, and I'm afraid that you're letting him."

"He's just a friend."

"He's a friend who wants to get in your pants."

She pushes his hands away, "You barely know him."

"And now you're defending him…to me!"

Erin turns back to the sink and resumes cleaning the dishes. She rinses each dish and carefully lines it up in the empty dishwasher. She slams the door to the dishwasher closed, but doesn't press start –it's not filled yet. She grabs a dish towel to dry her hands, "He came from a screwed up family like I did." Lindsay begins to explain, and she could only hope that Jay gets it afterwards, "He knows how hard these streets can be. He's been dealt a bad hand when he was born like I did and he made the most out of it. He knows the world doesn't owe us anything, and he still chooses to believe there's good in it –there's perfection to be found."

"Erin, I don't want to lose you."

She throws the dishtowel onto the counter, "Well if you keep acting like that, then you will."

Halstead can't drop it. He can't allow the conversation to end here. He hears her feet intentionally stomp up the stairs and he finds himself following after her. He's calling out her name –trying to get her to stop walking, but she ignores him. He's taking two stairs at a time and before she's able to shut and lock him out of the master bedroom, he shoves his foot in the pathway of the incoming door. His arm pushes it back open, "What's going on with you Erin?"

"You wanted space; I'm giving it to you."

"That's not fair."

"No," she walks over to her dresser and begins yanking clothes out of it in search of something to wear, "let me tell you what's not fair," she finds a shirt, straightens her posture and turns to face her husband, "it's you acting like this. You know me. You know me better than anyone and you know I would never do anything to jeopardize our marriage. Tyler's a flirt –he's obviously overcompensating for something. He enjoys our banter. He knows I'm not receptive to his flirting and that's what entertains him. He's just joking."

"I don't find it funny."

Erin sets her shirt down onto the bed, "I'm trying here Jay…you have to see that."

"No," he approaches her from behind, "what I see is you and him spending time together outside of work, you staying over his place overnight, him following you to the water fountain and apparently sending you flowers and buying you dinner. That's what I see."

Erin immediately turns to face him –tears overwhelmingly brim her eyes. She sniffs in and begins collecting the clothes she threw out of her drawer in the heat of the moment. She starts refolding them; she's sniffing occasionally, trying to hold in the tears. It's the stupid hormones. She hardly ever cries in the middle of an argument. She neatly sets each article of clothing back into the drawer, and once she finishes, she shuts it. Her stomach is pressed against the smooth wood of the dresser as she stares forward at her reflection in the overhead mirror, "It was one time." Her voice surprises her by not cracking.

"That's one too many," Jay replies, walking up to her; his hand sets itself upon her lower back and his thumb gently caresses the material of her shirt covering the smoothness of her skin, "You're my wife, not his."

"Are we seriously doing this right now?" Erin questions, stepping away from him, "Jay, I'm tired, I'm sweaty and I really want a shower," she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, "I'm sorry if I screwed up. I'm really sorry that I'm not perfect. I'm so sorry if I'm not always the ideal wife, but you know what? I'm human. No one is perfect; not me and not you either." She walks around him and proceeds to head towards their master bathroom.

"Erin-" he calls out and she interrupts and ignores.

"I thought you wanted space?" She's facing him, but she's backing up slowly into the bathroom.

"We're not done talking."

"Jay meet space," she pointed around their bedroom, "space meet Jay. I hope you two have a great time together." And with that, she slams the bathroom door –locking it seconds afterwards.

Erin presses her back against the door, closes her eyes and releases a long breath of air. She unzips her jacket, takes off her pants and discards the two articles of clothing to the side. She turns on the shower, waits until the water reaches the perfect temperature, before drawing back towards the mirror. It amazes her how her loosely hung shirt is able to mask her bulging belly. Erin crosses her arms and grabs the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head seconds afterwards. As she looks back at her reflection, the shaping of her stomach is obvious. If Jay saw her naked, he would know, fortunately for her, it doesn't seem like he'll be seeing her naked any time soon. Lindsay turns sideways; her hand running down and tracing the outline of her stomach. There's a baby in there; there's a baby who depends on her for everything right now. Lindsay closes her eyes and discards herself of her bra and undies; there's a baby inside of her that will need her for necessities in life. A child who will be raised with her and Jay's morals, their looks and their beliefs…at least until the child reaches an age to form beliefs of their own.

Lindsay steps into the shower; she's extra careful. She's still in her first trimester and the risk of a miscarriage decreases by the second. As the water falls onto her, her muscles relax. Her shoulders unwind, her eyes close, and the water flows down her hair and her body. She washes her face. She washes her hair. She takes her time to watch every inch of herself. Without a worry in the world, she extends her normal shower time by an extra few minutes. Her fingers start to dry out and shrivel –it's time to get out. Erin steps out, grabs a towel and wraps it around her body. The towel won't close all the way; her pregnant belly extending and causing for the towel to barely meet at the ends. She drops the towel on her clothes pile and grabs another to tie around her hair –soaking in the drips of water. She brushes her teeth. She washes her face one last time. She scoops up her pile of clothes –including the towel- and takes a step by the bathroom door.

After unlocking the bathroom door, and peeking out, she notices Jay isn't in the room. Sighing in relief and stepping out into the air conditioned bedroom, she tosses the clothes into her laundry hamper before locking the door to her bedroom. She can't afford for Jay to walk back in. She's in no mood for further conversation about secrets and what she's apparently holding back from him. Lindsay turns on the television; the news is on, and as her subconscious listens to the local reports, she's quickly getting ready. Her extended shower meant a shorter amount of time in getting dressed. After throwing on her underclothes and rubbing on deodorant, Erin grabs the loose shirt she picked out. Soon, she'll be going maternity clothes shopping, but for right now, she was going to enjoy her last week or two in her normal, pre-pregnancy clothes.

"Trent Walsh, 34, found dead in the drive-way of his home early this morning by his ex-wife as she came to drop off their son," Erin listens to the unfortunate news report, "He was last seen at Molly's bar before being discovered early this morning." At the mention of Molly's bar, Erin fully tunes into the network. She buttons her jeans and reaches onto the bed to grab her shirt. As the picture of Trent Walsh appeared on the screen, Erin's shirt dropped from her hands, "JAY!" She sweeps her shirt up and immediately throws the loose fitting tee over top her head.

"What's wrong?" Jay is at the other side of their bedroom door, jiggling the handle.

Lindsay adjust her shirt; she glances in the mirror to guarantee that the loose fitting article of clothing doesn't frame her tummy, and once she's assured, she runs to the door and unlocks it. Jay is inside within seconds, his hands immediately going to her face, scanning her face for any sign of distress; he's worried. And no amount of arguing or anger between the two would ever come before their love for one another. He's checking her for signs of injury; her voice sounded distressed and he had absolutely no idea as to why. Halstead is speechless. He's looking at her, trying to peer into her eyes, but she's looking over his shoulder, pointing her finger at the television screen, "I know him."

Jay turns around –contact between the two is lost. He reads the news headline, "You do?"

"I don't know him well. I barely know him at all. I met him last night."

"He was murdered."

"I see that!" Erin exclaims, she grabs the remote and turns up the volume.

"Were you the last one to see him alive?" Jay finds his thoughts switching between cop and husband mode. He divides his hearing –one part of him is waiting for her answer and the other part is listening to the continued news report about Trent.

"No…Tyler and I left before he did."

"You and Tyler were at Mollys' together," Jay responds; he tries to be there for her, he wants to comfort her so bad, but he can't help but steer the conversation and its focus onto Tyler –the thorn in the side of their relationship.

Erin's staring at the flat screen TV mounted against the wall. She finds herself crying –tears are falling from her eyes over a man she barely knew, a man that was an asshole. She presses her eyes closed to smear the tears away, "I was there and then he was there," she reopens her eyes as she turns to face her husband; "We didn't go together." She turns back towards the news, and now the story has moved on. The weatherman is discussing the weather for today – the high chance of rain, the strong winds and the dropping temperature. Trent seemed to have been forgotten by the anchors as they warn the viewers to dress for the weather. Lindsay can't seem to think about it and process what they're saying; she's still thinking about Trent Walsh. That's his name. She never got to find out yesterday. She actually feels bad about it. Jay can tell.

"How do you know him?" Jay calms himself down enough to comfort his wife. He can see her getting worked up; she's sad, maybe this guy actually meant something to her.

"We got into an argument yesterday."

Jay notices the look on her face –it's a look of guilt, "It's not your fault."

"It was a stupid argument," she admits; she looks devastated as she thinks about the picture of Trent they chose to show on the news, "He wanted to buy me a drink and I declined. He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"…sounds like a jerk."

"He was, but now he's dead."

"Come here," he urges, opening his arms and sighing in relief when she steps into his embrace. He holds her close; her head resting against his chest. Jay runs his hand down the back of her head and he pecks the top of it in assurance. His wife was grieving over a guy she didn't like; he understood that a life was lost, but he knew Erin enough to know that while she may have wanted to extend her condolences to the family, she normally wouldn't get this worked up over the death of a man who was a complete asshole to her.

Jay and Erin are frozen in the moment –they're stuck in time. They drown out the next news report as they remain entangled in each other's arms. She sniffs, and mentally she blames her pregnancy on the overwhelming emotions she has in response to Trent's death. She hardly knew the guy. He was practically a stranger; she didn't even know his name before today, yet she was crying for him. The hormone changes were making her cry over someone who didn't deserve death, but had been a drunken idiot yesterday. Lindsay pulls away; she hears the house phone ring, and she walks out of their bedroom to go answer it. Jay cuts off the television and follows after her, "Lindsay," she clears her throat and announces into the phone.

"Erin, where are you?" It's Voight.

She uses the back of her hands to wipe her eyes, "I'm at home. I'm leaving out in five minutes. Why? What's up?"

"Two detectives are here."

"…in the Intelligence bullpen?"

"Yeah, they're here to speak to you and West. Tyler's in the breakroom talking with them now," Voight answers, and once she hears his office door shut behind him, he lowers his voice, "Kid, how do you know this Trent guy?"

Erin walks around the living room; she sees her phone on the charger –Jay must have plugged it up for her. She walks into the kitchen, and takes a seat at the table to rest her aching feet, "I've only known him for a total of like ten minutes…not enough to be any help to those detectives."

"They want to talk to you. You know every little detail helps."

"What did they say happened to him? The news only mentioned he was killed."

Voight sits at his desk, "I don't know much. I only spoke with them for about three minutes. I just know they want to talk to you about Trent…and that he was found inside his car this morning with his throat cut."

"Okay," it's all she needs to know, and she mutters, "I'm leaving out soon," before hanging up.

The phone is back on the base. Jay is behind her. He's heard her side of the conversation and it gives him enough information to draw a conclusion as to what's going on. He extends her coat and her shoes. She smiles and takes them from him. She sniffs in once more, sits back down in the kitchen and slides on her boots. She's focused on easing her achy feet into the shoe and zipping the leather boot up when Jay pulls out the chair adjacent to hers, "Erin," he's careful with his tone –knowing sometimes it's not what you say, but how you say it, "our earlier, previous conversation isn't over, but I want you to know that even though we're kind of mad at each other right now, I'm here for you whenever you want or need to talk."

"Thanks," she whispers, giving him the best smile she could muster. She rises to her feet, grabs the coat that she set down and goes over to retrieve her cell phone. It only charged up thirty percent; she unplugs the charger and decides to finish charging it at work. They're both quiet as they leave the house, and surprisingly Erin puts up no argument when Jay slides in on the driver's side and buckles himself in.

The ride to the precinct is quiet; the only sounds heard are the active and loud noises that fill the city of Chicago. It's constant. It's rarely ever a moment of silence. The city is always live and full of action, even in the morning. Knowing that neither of them will strike up the nerve to speak, Erin leans her head against the window and day dreams. She pictures herself in present time –Jay driving and her riding in the back beside a car seat. Inside the car seat is a baby, a newborn –dressed in a neutral colored onesie- she's unable to picture a boy or girl because she doesn't know which it'll be; she pictures a baby that could fall into either gender, especially as a newborn –one that from her daydream couldn't be more than a few days old.

With her head resting against the window, she innocently and overwhelmingly smiles at the thought. She's beaming at the idea of loving someone, loving a person more than herself, more than anyone. Someone will be fully dependent upon her and Jay. Since first finding out, she does start to feel that a maternal instinct, that overwhelming motherly love start to flood her. She can only imagine how strong it'll be when the baby is actually here. Lindsay mindlessly cradles her small baby bump with her hand; her thumb strokes the area where her belly button rests beneath her shirt and jacket. She's smiling –beaming from ear to ear.

"Are you okay?"

Lindsay snaps back into reality; the imagined car seat is gone from the back and when she follows Jay's line of vision, she notices it settled on her hand –the hand covering her stomach. They're at a red light. Concern is evident in his eyes. He watches her quickly pull her hand away from her stomach, "Are you getting sick again? You haven't been sick in months."

"No," she provides him a reassuring smile, "I'm actually feeling really good." And she was. Erin has managed to hide her morning sickness after finding out about the pregnancy. She knew that if Jay was aware of the fact that she's still nauseous from months ago, he would make the connection –he will draw the accurate conclusion that she's pregnant. Jay seems to accept her response; the light turning green played another distraction that worked in her favor. He resumed driving and she resumed her gaze outside of the window, this time she's mindful to not allow her hand to protectively rest upon the bump, at least until she tells him the news.

She tries to think of anything else, but her thoughts always seem to go back to the baby. In a few months, a baby will be here. In a few months, she and Jay will be parents. In a few months, hopefully they've worked out the cracks in their relationship so their marriage is a strong enough foundation to sustain and handle a baby. Erin attempts to focus on the Chicago traffic –anything to keep her mind off her baby- but thinking about the traffic and the reckless driving has her back to thinking about her baby. It's all she can think about; she's anxious, nervous and even a little excited about growing this baby and welcoming it into the world. She starts thinking about getting a baby on board bumper sticker; she's thinking of any maneuvers that could potentially keep her baby out of harm's way. Erin wants people to drive more cautious around her vehicle. She didn't know if a bumper sticker would work, but it was worth a shot.

Erin's eyes drift over towards Jay; his jacket was thrown into the backseat before he started driving. His t-shirt clung to his muscled form, and Erin can't help but bring herself to picture those arms holding such a small and delicate baby. The image of a baby's small hand wrapped around his large finger brings a small back onto her face. It's such a sweet picture and it makes her even more excited to tell him the news. And she's going to do it; she's going to tell him once he calms down and gets his act together. She wants it to be perfect. She wants to share the news in the best way possible –when they're alone, happy and in each other's arms.

When they arrive to the district, they're both quick to hop out. They're both quick to get inside as the sky opens up to release the pouring rain that was predicted early this morning by the weatherman. They're both quick to shimmy the droplets of rain water off themselves once they step into the precinct. And they're both quick in their quest to buzz into Intelligence and climb the stairs up to the bullpen. The sooner Erin speaks with the two detectives, the quicker she'll be able to get back to working on their case. Once Lindsay's foot landed on the top stair, she sees the officers –one man and one woman, they're departing from the breakroom with Tyler.

"It's hot in here," Burgess complains –it's the first voice Erin hears when she arrives, "I hardly got any sleep last night, I'm so tired. And I want to go home…back to my place, not Adam's." Her complaints are in Atwater's direction; Erin ignores it.

"I'm Detective Lindsay," Erin feels a little out of breath at her introduction; from all the quick movements, she feels the sudden rush of adrenaline start to simmer down, "I heard you two wanted to speak with me." Burgess watches her best friend. She gives her a questioning eye, making sure that Erin was okay.

"Yeah, I'm Detective Johnson," the blonde male announced, walking towards Erin with his hand extended; they shake hands, "and this is my partner Detective Garcia," he points over his shoulder towards the Hispanic woman, and she waves, "We're investigating Trent Walsh's murder; someone at the bar identified you and Detective West at having been two of the last people to see him alive. Would you like to speak in private?"

Voight answers for her, "You can talk to her out here."

"I don't mind," Lindsay chimes in, assuring both detectives that it's fine.

As Erin walks pass her husband in order to lead the two detectives towards her desk, she notices a hesitation. Detective Garcia's eyes are on Jay, she gives him a brief overview and blushes when his own eyes catch hers checking him out. It seems Detective Garcia has a little crush on Halstead, and by the look on Erin's face, Jay could tell he wasn't the only one who noticed the side glances that Detective Garcia occasionally passed in his direction. Soon enough Garcia pulls her eyes away and catches the furrowed and suspecting look on Lindsay's face, she's embarrassed and she decides to clear her throat and focus back on the task at hand, "We understand that you had an argument with Mr. Walsh last night."

"I did," Erin admitted; her brows are still furrowed and she's looking at her husband. Jay is back at his desk; the look Lindsay sends his way goes unnoticed by him.

Detective Johnson pries for more, "About what?"

"He couldn't take no for an answer."

She pulls her chair out and takes a seat. Her once furrowed brows are gone and her face is relaxed, except for the distrusting look that appears every few seconds. Detective Garcia still looks flustered –she's still embarrassed from accidentally being caught ogling a man while in a professional capacity. The detective tunes into the questions –Detective Johnson obviously taking the lead- and her eyes begin scanning Erin's desk. It's organized. It's neat. And besides the usual things one would find on a detective's desk, she sees two picture frames. One photo is of Detective Lindsay and the detective that Garcia had been checking out at what appears to be their wedding night. The second photo is of the same two detectives standing in front of a house, holding up keys and kissing. He was taken. He was married. The suspecting look on Erin's face fell the second she saw Detective Garcia staring down at the two pictures. She knows now, and Erin has no further reason to keep the skeptical expression upon her face. Detective Garcia now knew why Detective Lindsay had been eyeing her; she was embarrassed even more because of it. With her hands tucked into her front pants pocket, she listens in as Detective Johnson continues with the questioning, "Was he drunk?"

"Very."

"And was he still at the bar when you left?"

"Yes. He was with his friends."

Erin catches Detective West staring at her from across the bullpen. Once her eyes catch his, he smiles and looks away. If she didn't know him, she would have thought he was flustered or embarrassed at being caught. That wasn't like Tyler. Lindsay turns away, purposely choosing not to question it further. It wasn't any of her business how he acts. She only knew him for eleven weeks; that's hardly enough time to say you truly know someone.

"His friends said that he stayed at the bar hours after they left," Detective Garcia replies; she's finally got herself together and is over the obvious embarrassment enough to do her job.

"I know nothing about that. Tyler and I left before all of them."

"Is there anything else you can tell us? Nothing is too small or unimportant."

Lindsay raises her hand –a curious childlike expression on her face, "I actually have a question."

"We might have an answer." Detective Garcia responds, pulling her hands out of her pockets, "What's up?"

"How did he die?"

Detective Johnson bites his lip, "It was gruesome." He shakes his head trying to shake the image of Trent's body out of his head. He had been one of the first responders at the scene.

"We're all cops. I can handle it."

Detective Garcia chooses to answer her question, "His throat was cut open and his vocal cords were removed."

This earns the attention of the entire unit. They all look up and look over. Trent's throat was cut open and his own vocal cords were snatched out. That's sick. It's gruesome just as Detective Johnson had described. Who could possibly do that to a human being? Erin shudders; her shoulders tremble at the thought, and she thanks some unknown being for not having to be the first to arrive at the scene. She's sad for Trent's ex-wife and son. She couldn't imagine walking in to find Jay or Voight like that; she shudders again at that thought. Erin pinches the bridge of her nose as she stares down at the files resting on the center of her desk –it gives her a thought.

"Were his vocal cords left at the scene?" She looks up to meet the detectives' eyes.

"No," Detective Garcia answers; a look of confusion is evident on her face, "And the coroner on the scene was able to tell us that the perpetrator tried to actually strangle him first."

"Strangle him?" This peaked Halstead's interest; he walks over.

"Yeah, with some beaded necklace," Detective Johnson shrugged it off, smirking at the perpetrator's actual attempt to strangle a huge man with a cheap piece of jewelry, "Loose beads were found around him and the inside of his car; the necklace must have popped when Trent fought back. His fingers have indents from pulling at the sharp beads."

"Someone attempted to strangle him with beads?" Halstead prodded, and Detective Garcia turns to face him –she nods and reaches into her pocket.

Inside her pocket was a small evidence bag. The district was on the way to where she was supposed to drop the beads off. They were all loose beads –picked up one by one- placed inside the bag and sealed to keep it protected from any further external contaminations. Halstead is handed the bag and he immediately walks over to the pictures taped up to the whiteboard. The pictures were crime scene photos of everything, but the deceased. The women deserved more than to have their dead bodies taped up to a whiteboard –their DMV photos were used instead while their post-death photos remained inside their files. Jay holds them up to the captured photo of the beaded necklace used in the murder of Amanda Scott. They're a match.

Voight notices the resemblance of the beads, "It can't be a coincidence."

"He's also missing his vocal cords," Dawson chimed in, approaching the board to take a closer look at the photo and the beads.

"The party beads were also left around him," Olinsky adds.

"Why would he change his pattern though?" Erin questions; she forgets about Detective Johnson and Garcia's presence as she turns to face her team, "He killed a male this time."

Burgess suggested, "Maybe he got in his way…"

"I was there at the bar with him," Lindsay proclaimed, briefly looking over at Tyler and meeting his eyes –he was there too; "Do you think our perpetrator could have been there as well?"

"Yeah, or our perpetrator could have met him at the club and coincidentally he happened to be killed after he met you." Halstead responds, handing Detective Garcia back the beads.

"We don't know if he even went to the club," Atwater remarks.

"…the beads," Dawson instantly reminds him; it's the biggest piece of evidence in their investigation, "It's the only link all the victims have in common. How else would he have gotten on the killer's radar? Why would Trent have party beads in the first place?"

Olinsky pointed to Erin, earning her attention, "How did you meet him?"

"He wanted to buy me a drink."

"Please tell me you didn't take him up on his offer." Burgess pleaded, worry evident in her tone. It confuses most of the team, but they overlook her adamant plea when Erin answers, drawing away their attention.

"Of course not…that's why Gaby said she saw us arguing. I declined and he didn't take no for an answer…but we left before him, we left before he could cause trouble."

Detective Johnson and Garcia stood quiet. Their heads switched in different directions depending on who was speaking at the time. With all the people talking at different points, it was hard to keep up. It was hard to follow along with what they're discussing.

"Can someone explain to us what's going on?" It was Detective Johnson who voiced their need for clarity. And the entire team looked at Voight to answer.

"We believe Trent Walsh's death has something to do with the case we're currently working on," his arms are crossed over his chest as he stands in front of both detectives, "My team would like to work this case. There are too many coincidences in Walsh's death that links to the murder of four women in Chicago and two women in Indianapolis."

Garcia looks at Johnson, and he looks at her; they have a silent discussion with their eyes before Detective Garcia turns back to Voight, "No argument from us; you can take the case."

"We'll send over any case files, the information on Trent's ex-wife and friends, and the chain of custody list for each piece of evidence," Detective Johnson added. There wasn't much conversation to follow and with a nod of thanks, the two detectives left the unit.

As Erin stands between Voight and Halstead, she watches them as their eyes follow the two departing detectives until they're out of everyone's line of vision. Everyday brought forth new information; unfortunately, it took for someone else to be killed for them to get it. Trent Walsh's death had been a big turn of events. If further investigation proved that their perpetrator indeed killed Trent, then the killer isn't only targeting brunette women, it means the killer is branching out and beginning to target any and every one. Trent was physically built and had the personality of a high school jock, but that didn't deter him from becoming the next victim. There had to be something about him, something that he did, or something that he didn't do that made him stand out from all of the other clubbers, it had to be big enough for him to be chosen, for the perpetrator to decide to break his pattern and go outside of his normal comfort zone.

Lindsay watches the team group together, pulling up chairs near the white board to look over what they have as Mouse waits at his computer for an email –with the case file attachments- from the district over. As Erin starts pushing her chair towards the whiteboard to sit with the rest of the team, the nausea in the pit of her stomach starts coming back. She wants to cover her mouth with one hand, but the sign of doing that would hint towards her nausea. Instead, she leaves her chair in between Halstead and Atwater and attempted to walk as normal as possible towards the breakroom. She enters the breakroom and immediately walks over to the sink. Erin leans over the faucet to rip off two paper towels and after wetting them underneath the faucet water, she pats the towels against her forehead. The nausea is still there, it's present, and it increases. It's an empty nauseous feeling; she feels like she's going to puke, but at the same time, she feels like nothing is going to come up.

She takes a deep breath. She tosses the paper towel into the nearby trashcan. Her eyes close. And she grips the edge of the countertop, deciding it's best to just wait for the nausea to pass. She licks her lips and counts up the seconds until her tummy is subdued. She's hot. She's starting to sweat. Some women had easy pregnancies and here Lindsay was, in her third month, and having one of the worst pregnancies ever. As her eyes remain closed, a voice whispers into her ear, "I have you on the top of my to-do list."

Erin jumps. She's startled, and out of fear, she turns around and shoves Tyler away from her. His hands fly into the air as he chuckles. She doesn't find it funny. Her heart is pounding and soon enough it'll figuratively beat out of her chest. She grabs another paper towel, "Don't ever say something like that to me again," she wets it under the cold faucet water, "That is by far the most inappropriate thing you've ever said to me…and it needs to stop." She pats it against her face.

"Are you afraid of what you'll do if it doesn't?"

"Leave me alone."

Tyler doesn't respond. He simply moves beside her and starts making himself a cup of coffee. She continually pats the paper towel against her forehead until she hears a deep sigh of frustration coming from the doorway. It's Burgess. She storms inside. She's irritated. She loudly takes a seat and crosses her arms. Tyler stirs his coffee, nods towards Kim, and leaves the breakroom. Erin can tell Kim wants to talk; it's the reason she came into the breakroom. She needed the ear of her best friend to listen and her wise brain to offer her some advice. However, Erin doesn't turn around at the sigh being released from Kim's mouth; she's not feeling well, and she purposely ignores it.

"Aren't you going to ask what's bothering me?" Burgess leans back in the plastic chair, and crosses her arms over her chest.

Erin grabs another paper towel and sighs, "What's bothering you?"

"Besides the heat and the fact that I only got four hours of sleep last night, what's bothering me is Ruzek," Burgess remarks, sitting up and staring at the back of Erin's head, "I have a good man. Don't get me wrong, I love Adam, I just want him to mature. He needs to grow up! I want him to propose," she rises to her feet, "I want to get married," her words come out in a whine as she walks around the table, "I want to have a baby!" Burgess is grinning from ear to ear at the thought, "And I want to move into a bigger place, a house, a grown-up house!"

"So take action…"

"That's all you got for me?"

"Yeah," Erin throws the paper towels into the trashcan, "that's all I got for you."

"When you come to me for advice, I at least look interested. I at least care. You can't look more uninterested even if you tried Erin," Burgess exclaimed, approaching her closest friend.

"I don't know what you want from me," Erin whispers; her eyes close again and she grips the edge of the countertop. She thinks about the baby; she finds herself doing that a lot when her nausea strikes. She thinks about the reasoning behind it.

"I want you to be the friend to me that I am to you."

"Fine," Erin snaps; she turns around almost instantaneously, "With every breath you take Burgess, some person out there just took their last," her nausea starts to settle down, "So I suggest you stop complaining about what you have and be thankful for not having worse."

Kim looks caught off guard –she's dumbfounded and momentarily speechless. Her hands settle against her hips as she quickly approaches Erin, "You don't get to act all high and mighty like you have your life together."

"I was just giving you some hard truths."

"And you expect me to listen to your advice when you won't even listen to mine?" It's the last thing Burgess mutters before storming away. She leaves Erin standing at the counter, now opening her eyes to find her best friend gone.

Lindsay bows her head and sighs, "You try to do something nice for a change, then you have it thrown right back into your face." She grabs a dry paper towel to wipe the drips of water off her face, and before she is able to throw it into the trashcan, Halstead enters the room, with Mr. Foster –Linda's husband- following behind him.

At the sight of Mr. Foster, Lindsay runs her hand over her face and stretches a grin across her lips. Regardless of how she's feeling internally, she wouldn't allow her bad mood to affect how she talks to Linda's grieving husband. She knew that Burgess would get over it; they've argued countless times in their friendship, but it only made them stronger. Erin pulls out a chair for Mr. Foster as he and Jay walked further into the room, "Mr. Foster this is Detective Lindsay."

"I remember," he whispers; his voice is too low for them to hear, but instead of stepping closer, they simply nod –both unknowing of what he said. Mr. Foster clears his throat and speaks louder as he continues, "thanks for the seat," he sits in the chair that Erin pulled out, "and you both can call me Sheldon, no need for formalities."

"…then we're Erin and Jay," Halstead reintroduced, pulling a chair up to the side of Sheldon.

"I didn't come to talk much," Sheldon admits, twirling the wedding band around his finger, "I only came to ask when I could get Linda's possessions back."

"No one gave them back to you?" Jay's surprised. Usually after collecting the evidence and shedding the victim of the items they wore or had on their persons, the personal possessions that had nothing to do with the case was given back to the closest family member.

"I haven't received anything," Sheldon replies, watching as Jay and Erin's eyes meet. A silent conversation is conducted between the two, and Lindsay rises to her feet and gives Mr. Foster a nod of the head, "I'll be right back. I'll see what I can do about that."

Erin leaves Jay sitting with the grieving husband. It's quiet between the two. Normally Jay isn't the one to sit with the victims' family members. He's usually not that great with talking and comforting strangers, but from the silent conversation he had with Erin just now, he could see she wasn't up for being that person. She wasn't quick to rush to comfort Sheldon as she has comforted many people more times than any of them could count. She needed this break. And Jay gave it to her. He watched her leave, and now he sat silently beside Mr. Foster.

"You're married," as Sheldon twirls the ring around his finger, he notices the one on Jay's, "I thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life when I married Linda. When we were separated, I was so angry and I thought we were over for good…and I was happy about it." Mr. Foster is speaking aloud and staring forward, "With our kids, we stopped focusing on our marriage and our life started to revolve around them. When they grew up, they didn't need us as much and we didn't know how to get back to what we were," there's a break in Sheldon's voice and Jay catches it, "We figured a separation was for the best, but the more time I spent without her, the more I wanted to be with her. Then I found out she was seeing some guy and I couldn't bear it, I had to find her, I had to get her back. And then once I did, once we made plans to go to counseling and work on our marriage, she was taken from me." His tale forces Jay to stare down at his own wedding band; he's still clueless as to what to say to Mr. Foster so he chooses to remain silent and allow the man to continue spilling his heart out, "It's not my place to offer marriage advice, especially since mine wasn't perfect, but-" he cuts himself off to turn and face Jay, "how long have you two been married?"

"Six years."

The answer seems to bring a smile to Sheldon's face, "I shouldn't offer marriage advice, but I feel like if someone offered me some, I wouldn't be here. Linda would still be alive. My kids would still have their mom. I would still have my wife. But, no one gave me advice," Sheldon disclosed more to himself than to Jay, however his attention is shifted back on Jay when he remembers to give the detective a word of wisdom, "I want to give you advice and I don't know if it's more for your benefit or mine. I just wish someone gave me and Linda the same advice."

"And what would that be?" Jay encourages; his smile shows Sheldon that he wants to hear what he has to say, he wants his advice and he'll appreciate every advised word that is spoken.

"Forget the petty arguments; in the end, they're not worth it at all."

Halstead doesn't respond; he just nods his head and takes in the advised words of Mr. Foster –a man older, wiser and more experienced than he is. Erin walks into the room, smiling brightly and extending a bag towards Sheldon. He's grinning from ear to ear and it makes both Erin and Jay beam. They're looking at each other as Sheldon opens the bag and starts looking through it. He pulls out a hair clip –something small and worthless, but it means the world to him. He sets it down onto the table and reaches back into the bag. This time he pulls out possessions that were inside of her purse, and by the time he empties the bag, the once beaming smile on his face is gone. His mouth is agape and he starts looking back and forth between the two detectives.

"What's wrong?" Erin asks, rushing up to his side.

"Her wedding ring," Sheldon answers, turning the bag upside down and shaking it, "it's not in here. Do you all still have it? Is it evidence? When can I get it back?"

Lindsay starts ruffling through the possessions spread out onto the table, "If it's not in there, then we aren't in possession of it," Erin starts picking up different items before setting them back down, "Are you sure she was wearing it?"

"That asshole must have kept it when he took her fingers!" Sheldon shouted, throwing each possession back into the bag. He's hurt. It's the one thing he wanted back the most. He wanted to put it on a chain and wear it around his neck. He wanted to keep it and give it to one of his kids when it was time for them to get married. He wanted to pass it down so it stayed within the family. Of all the things in the bag, Sheldon wanted that back the most.

"What does it look like?" Erin asks, sitting back down in her seat, "I'm going to find it for you, but I need you to describe it to me."

"It's an old ring. It looks kind of ancient. It has been passed down in my family for generations, but when I was given it, I paid to get an inscription carved into the inside. It says to my Linda, with all my love Sheldon." He struggles to remain calm as he places the last item back into the bag. He's breathing deeply, and his eyes avert from the bag of possessions and up to Erin, "Detective Lindsay I know I shouldn't get this upset over a materialistic possession, but my wife is gone, and this is something that was a symbol of my love for her –our love for each other," his eyes glance down to her wedding ring, "I'm sure you understand."

She nods, "I do," her eyes meet Jay's and another silent conversation occurs between the two, ending with a smile tugging at both of their lips.

"Thank you both," Sheldon licks his lips and rises to his feet, "I appreciate you listening," he tells Jay, "and I appreciate you giving me back her possessions," he tells Erin, holding the bag of things up close against his chest. His eyes briefly close and he sharply inhales in; he'll have to take and accept what he's got. Detective Lindsay told him that she'll get the ring back and he had no reason to doubt her. She was married. If anyone understood what the symbol of a wedding ring means, it's someone who has also experienced the bliss of marriage.

Mouse briefly looks up to sadly watch as Erin and Jay lead Mr. Foster out of the breakroom. They lead him to the staircase, and both detectives watch him as he descends down upon them. Since Mr. Foster arrived, Mouse and Atwater had resumed combing through the surveillance footage –frame by frame and second by second- it was tedious work, but someone had to do it.

"Here's our first victim again," Atwater pointed out, reaching over Mouse's shoulder to point at Michelle as she left the restroom, "Wait." They watch her approach a man. She's standing in front of him, and they cross their fingers in hopes of her stepping to the side. It's a dim light, but what light is offered bounces off the back of her head. If she moves out of the way, hopefully the light is strong enough and bright enough for them to get at least a partial clear view of his face. They're still looking, and when she throws her hair over her shoulder, the quick movement of her head shifts to the side briefly –Mouse pauses the footage. Atwater lifts his finger from the screen when he spots the male face, "Is that?" Both men look up and glance at Tyler, as he sits against the edge of Kim's desk, sipping his coffee.

Atwater stays at the desk as Mouse rises from his seat. They have a silent understanding of what's about to occur. Atwater is going to stay at Mouse's desk and continue to watch the footage to see what will happen between the two as Mouse goes into Voight's office. He casually walks down the aisle of the bullpen, and knocks gently against the office door of his boss. He acts normal –his mannerisms are calm. Once Voight tells him to come in, he quickly opens the door, steps inside and shuts it swiftly behind him.

Mouse exasperatedly informs, "We found something!" He rushes over to Voight's desk and leans his hands on top of it, "We've been following Michelle Danvers around on surveillance and we got a brief glimpse of the man she was with; it's Tyler."

Without another word, Voight stands, walks pass Mouse and exits his office. He walks out into the bullpen, and each detective's head turns to face him. He slowly, but angrily stomps towards Tyler who still remains sitting against the corner of Kim's desk, drinking the last bit of his coffee. He snatches the coffee cup out of Tyler's hand and sets it down onto Kim's desk, "How come you never told us you knew the first victim?"

"I wanted to stay on the case," Tyler admits, as each detective looks at him in bewilderment; they're all curious to hear what he has to say after Voight's declaration, "I knew if I had told you that I knew her then you would take me off of it. This case is personal for me."

"Do you know any of the other victims?"

"No," Tyler smoothly replies.

"So, when Mouse and Atwater finish combing through the video feed of the rest of the victims, they won't find any communication between you and them?" Voight is clear with his question; he's still angry that Detective West withheld information from him, but he's trying to give the man the benefit of the doubt; he's offering him a chance to be honest and clear.

"No."

"What about the victims in Indianapolis?" Halstead steps forward and asks.

"I don't know them at all," Tyler admits, bowing his head in sadness; he grabs his cup off the desk and resumes drinking the last few sips. He grasps his empty cup in the center of both of his hands as he rises from the corner of the desk. No one stops him as he walks into the breakroom to wash out the borrowed cup he used.

As Tyler washes the cup out, he feels a headache start to emerge. He takes one hand and hits it against his forehead, trying to literally knock the headache out. It doesn't work. Instead, his face contorts to a painful expression as he tries to manage the ache in his head. His eyes are closed and before he can finish rinsing the soap off the cup, he hears the water turn off. He reopens his eyes to find those of Erin's staring back at him, "I've never seen eyes more beautiful than yours." She ignores his compliment, takes the cup from him and sits it in the sink.

"How come you really didn't say anything about knowing Michelle?" She's skeptical, and her arms cross over her chest.

"Like I told Sergeant Voight, I figured if you all knew about me having contact with her, you would think I was too close to the case."

"Are you?"

"No."

"You were very adamant about working this case with us."

"It was the right thing to do," Tyler asserts, turning to face her; he takes in her flushed face and looks into her exhausted eyes, "Even when you're tired, your eyes are still pretty."

"I'm not here to talk about my eyes."

He glances down before bringing his eyes back up to meet hers, "Erin-"

"Stop."

"I just thought you should know that I am mentally undressing you with my eyes right now."

"Shut up," Erin rolls her eyes, and steps back to add space between she and Tyler, "We work together. Stop with the inappropriate comments before I file a workplace sexual harassment suit against you."

Tyler turns back on the faucet water, "You're one of those girls who play extremely hard to get."

"And you're one of those guys who don't understand the word stop and no." Erin has nothing left to say. She sees Tyler begin rinsing out the rest of the cup as she uses the distraction to back out of the breakroom.

Her nausea is starting to come back, and she finds herself mentally counting down the weeks until she's in her second trimester. The first and the third were always said to be the hardest. The second is supposed to give her a break from the first and a little rest before the third. She's two weeks shy of her second trimester, and as her stomach riddles with nausea due to the small breakfast she had this morning, she sneaks off to the nearest restroom and discards the little contents within her belly.

As she dabs a wet paper towel against the corners of her mouth, she takes in her reflection. She looks tired. She looks drained. She honestly doesn't think she's going to have another child –not at the rate this pregnancy is going. Erin throws the paper towel into the trash, grabs a stick of gum from her pocket and shoves it into her mouth. It's the best substitute she has to mask the task in her mouth. Erin exits the bathroom –pushing the door open and feeling it bump against a weighted figure. She jumps back at the sight of Voight, "Sorry."

"Go home kid," Hank orders; his voice is soft and she can tell he's really worried about her; "You don't look so good. I want you to take the rest of the day off. You've been working yourself hard and you deserve it." Erin looks around, ensuring herself that they're alone. She grabs his hand and tugs him off to the end of the hallway. They're standing at the end of the hallway –facing each other- an expression of concern embedded on his face.

"I have to tell you something," she whispers; her hand still remains within his.

"Is it good or bad?"

Erin presses her lips together in a straight line and shrugs, "I honestly don't know yet."

"What is it kid? You can't leave me hanging."

"I'm pregnant."

It's still hard to admit. It still takes some time to get used to it. Everyone who knows seems to be happy for her –her doctor, Platt, Burgess, Tyler and now Voight. He was smiling –beaming ear to ear. And he couldn't fight the urge to hug her. He holds her tight –as tight as he could without hurting her- and with a fatherly kiss against the side of her head, he draws back, "I'm so happy for you and Halstead. I'm going to be a grandpa again."

"Hank, you can't say anything yet," Lindsay avowed; her hand drifts down to rest at her lower tummy, "Jay doesn't know yet."

"When are you planning on telling him? He's going to find out eventually."

"…in the beginning of my second trimester."

Voight's eyes drift down to her hand covering the small baby bump, "How far along are you?"

"Eleven weeks; I'll tell him sometime in the next few weeks." She knows there's fear in her eyes, and once Hank realized it, he pulled her into another hug, "I'm going to tell Halstead when the time is right. This wasn't planned…and I want to go about this the right way. He can't find out from anyone besides me –it'll break his heart."

"I won't say a word, but I'm still sending you home."

Erin steps out of the hug, "I don't want preferential treatment Hank; I'm not ready for everyone else to find out."

"I want you to rest. You look exhausted like you haven't slept much. I'm not sending you home for good; it's just for the rest of the day, maybe the rest of the week."

Lindsay sighs and before she could object further, Voight shouts out Halstead's name. It's loud. He makes sure it's loud enough for the detective to hear, and once Jay walks over to the end of the hallway –confusion on his face- Voight speaks to clarify why he's been called over, "You and Erin rode here together?"

"Yeah."

"I'm giving the both of you the rest of the day off."

"Why?"

Erin's eyes flash to Hank, and he shows no sign of telling Halstead what Erin just told him. He simply shakes his head and tucks his hands into his front pockets, "Just accept the fact that I'm giving you the rest of the day off and go home. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

It's a relief to Erin; Voight was a beautiful liar. He could do it with ease. And he had the authority to stop others from questioning him and the decisions he makes. Without further discussion, Erin and Jay grab their jackets and a few belongings they brought with them to work today and left. No one batted an eye. No one questioned it. Everyone was too focused on work to notice the two detectives departing from the precinct. If they did notice anything, they would just assume Voight sent them out for something work related.

Erin hated being sent home –it has happened before when she falls ill. She didn't like missing out on the action. She wanted to help solve the case, she wanted to be out on the field and she really wanted to be there when they identified, captured and arrested the killer. She was missing out and she was going to miss out even more when she returns tomorrow. Now that Voight knows, he's definitely not going to let her out into the field. He'll keep her hostage and working inside the Intelligence bullpen.

As they arrive home, Erin uses the remaining few seconds in the car to talk to her husband. It wasn't about the main issues within their marriage –it was a simple conversation involving the normal everyday married-life topics.

"What are you about to do?"

Jay shrugs as he pulls up the driveway, "…take a nap. Maybe when I wake up, I'll order us some lunch. We need to go to the grocery store today too."

"Yeah, we can do that after we eat lunch," Erin replies. The best thing about having the day off is being able to catch up on chores and errands. Lindsay steps out of the car and closes the door, "I'm tired, but I don't think I'll be able to take a nap. I think it's pass time I catch up on laundry; we're running out of clean underclothes to wear."

And with that, they both exhaustedly step into the house, part ways and do what they've said they'd do. Jay kicks off his shoes and heads straight upstairs. Erin goes into the bedroom and drags the full laundry bag out of their bedroom as her husband falls down face first onto their bed. Snores emit from his body seconds afterwards.

As the washing machine begins filling up with water, Erin pours a cap size of detergent into the machine. The basket rests on the side table beside the appliance, as she starts pulling articles of clothes out one by one. Shirt after shirt, pants after pants, underwear after underwear, she throws the colored clothing inside of the washer. Digging her hands into each pants pocket to make sure she doesn't wash something that doesn't belong –like a few dollar bills like last time- she notices the bulge in a pair of her pants pocket. Lindsay withdraws the velvety box, and a reminder of the vintage ring she was sent months ago comes back to mind. She had forgotten all about it. And after opening the box to allow the old ring to appear in its antique glory, she removes it from jewelry box. It's pressed between two of her fingers and as she stares down at it, inspecting the aged ring, she notices something –an inscription.

In small font –almost unnoticeable to the naked eye- it reads to my Linda, with all my love Sheldon. The ring drops. She throws the pants into the washer and shuts the door. Lindsay attempts to scoop it up immediately, her hands fumbling against the carpet as she tries to scoop up the small ring. It rolls beneath the washing machine, and her hand slides beneath it to pat against the carpet in search, "Jay!" Lindsay shouts; the tips of her fingers brush against it, "Jay! Jay, wake up!" She grabs the ring just as Halstead runs out of their bedroom, "I found something."


	8. Injections

One of the worse feelings she has ever had in her career is thinking that she made a huge breakthrough in a case, only to learn that a piece of evidence led nowhere –it was a mere dead end. It's the fifteenth week since the Intelligence unit was handed the case. It should have been solved by now. The perpetrator should be arrested and facing prison time, not free and potentially searching for his next victim. It's the fourteenth week of Erin's pregnancy –she's three and a half months- and she desperately wants this case solved before the baby arrives. The fact that last weekend, she and Kim went shopping for maternity clothes put things into a clearer perspective; she's going to be showing soon. She has to tell Jay. She has to be restricted to the bullpen –not able to go out into the field. It's the second week since she started her second trimester, and she had every intention of telling Jay about the pregnancy, but another argument sparked, he ended up sleeping on the couch and by the time they made up, they had to get back to work, they had to focus on their professional life instead of their personal one.

Lindsay adjusts the elastic band around her waist –her maternity slacks comfortable and slightly loose. It's the first pair she has worn since she found out she was pregnant. Even though she's a little glum about transitioning into maternity clothes, she's relieved and happy to not be experiencing anymore morning sickness. She's not as tired either. She actually has been in a pretty good mood these last few days and if it wasn't for the strain and seriousness of the case, her mood would have been more long-lasting.

A week ago, the vintage ring was released from the evidence locker and given back to Mr. Foster. He was relieved. He hugged Erin. He thanked her. He kissed her cheek. And he cried. The ring led them nowhere. After Erin showed Jay the ring and read the inscription to him, it was placed into a bag and quickly transported to forensics. It was swabbed and checked for fingerprints, and the only prints they could find belonged to either Lindsay or Platt. The ring gave them nothing. It pointed to no one. And the only good thing to come of it was the look on Mr. Foster's face –the relief in his eyes and the happy tears rolling down his cheeks. It was almost a week ago when this happened and Erin still remembered every detail of that day –the day she was able to keep her word to Mr. Foster and return Linda's ring to him. It was the only good that came out of that minor piece of evidence.

The ring only gave them more questions than answers. Why was the ring sent to the precinct? Why was it sent to Erin more specifically? Why was it removed from the fingers the perpetrator cut off? What message is he trying to send? Voight and the team –besides Atwater and Mouse- had dedicated the last few weeks –from the day she found the ring until now- to investigate why the perpetrator had chosen to send something from Linda to Erin. She's sitting in her desk chair using her left hand to stroke underneath the slight protrusion of her stomach. It's soothing and she definitely needs to be soothed after watching Voight pace up and down the aisle of the bullpen demanding answers and giving orders. The desk blocked her hand and the large sweatshirt continued to dangle loosely around her to obscure the visual of her baby bump.

Erin hears a chair dragged over to the side of her desk, and out of reflex she pulls her hand away. It's only Tyler she notices by looking over in her peripheral. He's smiling, and leaning forward on his elbows situated at the corner of her desk. It's obvious he wants to say something to her. The urge to speak is pulling at him, but he doesn't want to speak over the sergeant. Tyler waits until the last order is given by Voight before he speaks, "You figured out the ring belonged to Linda," Tyler rubs his hand congratulatory against her back, "Look at you solving stuff. I knew you had it in you."

"I didn't solve anything. I just found his ring."

"And it was sent to you," Tyler reminded; a smug and curious expression mixed on his face.

She whispers back, "That's the part I'm stuck on," Erin sits up and turns to face him, "Why me?"

"That's what you're supposed to find out."

Tyler could hear Erin's stomach growl, and she embarrassedly makes eye contact with him. He shrugs it off. It's normal. It's the typical response of an empty stomach. Lindsay excuses herself and gets up, using the armrests of the chair to help her stand. She's quick. She makes sure to get to her feet as swift and steady as she normally does –she doesn't want anyone picking up on anything. She feels Tyler's hand press against her lower back, and is immediately forced to push it away. He was only trying to help steady her, but Halstead was watching. His eyes followed her; she used her hair to cover the side of her face as she powerwalked towards the breakroom. His eyes also follow Tyler as he breaks into a light jog in the direction of the breakroom –Jay trusts her. He frequently reminds himself. Jay trusts her. They've been in a relationship for eight years; they've been married for six of them. She's earned trust. Nothing is going on between them.

Erin grabs a red apple from the inside of the refrigerator. She bites into the juicy fruit and closes her eyes the second they get dry again. She doesn't know what's up, but for the last few days her eyes would water, burn and sometimes dry out. It was irritating. She used her empty hand to rub her eyes until she started seeing white spots. It was only a temporary relief and after she attends her sixteen week OB appointment, she has an appointment right afterwards with an eye doctor to hopefully get some prescription eye drops. Her eyes had been killing her. Lindsay is sitting down, nipping at her apple and occasionally wiping at her dry eyes when West walks in.

"Hey!"

Lindsay turned her upper torso slightly to see who had spoken, turns out it's Detective West greeting her. She turns back forward and takes another bite of her apple, "Hi," she said dismissively, chewing upon the crunchy red fruit.

"Are you upset with me?" He asked directly.

"No, why would you think that?"

"You pushed my hand away."

"It had no reason to be there," Erin responds, watching as Tyler takes a seat in the chair beside her, "I came in here to eat alone."

"You're upset. What's wrong? Is it the baby?"

"It's not the baby."

"What's wrong?"

Lindsay shakes her head, refusing to give in and admit to him the reason for her distress –the pain in her eyes. She sees Tyler pull his chair closer, refusing to give in and drop the subject. Erin looked into his for the first time since he sat down and saw the hurt that was lingering within them. It wasn't a big issue; it wasn't something to fuss over. She just needed a prescription eye drop to fix whatever the hell is wrong with her eyes. Tyler poses the same question, and once again Erin shakes her head, "It's fine Tyler."

"It's not fine. And why isn't your husband in here helping you?"

"My husband is working; he's solving this case like we're supposed to be doing," Erin put it simply; it didn't need further explanation, especially from her to Tyler.

"Well Erin, if _I_ were your husband," he obviously and openly flirts, brushing a loose and frizzy strand of hair behind her ear, "I wouldn't let you out of my sight."

"…then it's a great thing you aren't my husband." She remarks, swatting his hand away.

"How did he get so lucky to end up with a woman like you?"

"Tyler, please don't start this again."

"You don't get it Erin. I've been searching for my perfect person for most of my life," He confessed, sighing, "And it came so easy for you two."

"It didn't," Erin reveals, closing her eyes as she thinks back to the beginning of her relationship with Jay, "we've overcome a lot of obstacles stacked against us. We worked hard for this relationship. We earned this marriage. None of it came easy! Trust me on that."

West leans back in his seat, hands going behind his head, "My perfect person is probably already taken or dead. Some people are just destined to be alone forever."

Erin's apple long forgotten as she sits down onto the table; she sets her feet into the chair, "She's out there," she grabs her apple and bites into the last chunk of it, "You need to find someone who is on the same page as you. Don't seek something from someone who doesn't have the capacity to give it." She feels Tyler take her finished apple from her hands and toss it into the trashcan by the door –it lands effortlessly into the bin.

He turns back to face her so they can resume their chat, "You're just saying that to cheer me up."

"Tyler, you're a nice guy, but you're going about this all wrong. Don't look to love a perfect person, you won't find one." Erin stated firmly; her butt shifts to the edge of the table as she looks him in the eyes, "You're special someone is out there. You're funny, persistent and very charming –you can be a little obnoxious and conceited, but we all have our faults."

He rolls his eyes, "Thanks Erin."

"Tyler, what I'm trying to say is, she's out there, waiting for you," Erin put it simply; she's leaning on her elbow set firmly upon her lap, "You'll get your happily ever after, you just have to work for it like the rest of us."

He stands up in front of her, "What if I'm not meant to be loved."

"Everyone's meant to be loved," her voice is low, and the rasp in her tone draws him in –it's mesmerizing to him, "everyone deserves love and happiness. And to be honest, I don't know who I'll be without it."

A silence fell over the room. Her eyes are glossed over as she daydreams –she pictures the earlier newlywed moments with Jay. The words she spoke to Tyler were the same words once spoken to her. Jay was her perfect person; he may have been flawed in many ways, but she loved him for every imperfection he has and accepting his marriage proposal six years ago only meant that they're willing to love the good and the bad in each other. Having a perfect person by no means implies they have no faults, it just means they're your person, compatible in all ways that count and will be there for you –and vice versa- whenever life gets hard. Tyler's eyes are staring into hers; he's enjoying the perfect pearls of her orbs looking back into his. She smiles; her mind is continually thinking of her relationship with Jay, her vows to him and the promises she's made that she will forever keep. The smile on her face forces a smile to form on his. Tyler thinks they're on the same page; he's positive that this moment they're experiencing right now is reciprocal. It isn't. And because he was so confident in the moment, he didn't hesitate to act.

He felt the moment –a moment that she didn't pick up on. And the moment he felt, he took advantage of it. His hand grasps her chin; he leans in and seals his lips against hers. Erin's in shock –it takes seconds to register. And the moment his lips begin to move against hers, it clicks, he's kissing her. He's actually kissing her. And before Erin can push him away, before she can slap him, before she can tell him to stop and to never do that again, she feels him immediately yanked away. A shadow is casted over her head –she looks up and sees him, she sees her husband towering above her. Erin pushes off the table and onto her feet, looking between Jay and Tyler, the latter whom is currently on the ground rubbing his jawline.

Halstead stood in front of her; his eyes are wide and filled with shock and absolute disbelief. He looked from Erin's eyes to her lips, the lips that were once covered by Tyler's. The expression on his face is easily readable; it's cold, hard and distant. For the first time since she has known Jay, she's scared, she's worried –she can positively say that she has never seen this look on his face before. Extending her hands and taking a cautionary step towards him, she whispers, "Jay…" She knew she was metaphorically walking on pins and needles as she stepped towards him, "Please let me explain. It's not what you think."

"It's not what I think," Jay is not even looking at her; he's staring at Tyler rise from the ground. He's watching the other detective with his cold, piercing eyes, "It's not what I think," Halstead repeats his earlier comment and in that moment, Erin knew, she knew that between the intimidating look and the fire burning within his eyes, that she needed to pull him away.

Lindsay takes his hand. He snatches it away. She grips his arm and immediately pulls him away from the scene. She drags him out of the breakroom, down the hallway and into the empty interrogation room. Jay's face, his eyes, his body language was all void of any emotion. Erin shut the door to the interrogation room behind her quickly; she turns back to her husband, he looked heartbroken and the expression on his face breaks her heart. She opens her arms, wanting so badly to touch him, to hold him, to hug him, but when she tries to actually wrap her arms around him, he steps back.

"Jay…"

"Don't Erin."

"Jay…" she tries again, "it was a stupid mistake –an accident."

"So you expect me to believe that Tyler accidentally tripped and his lips landed on yours?"

"No, no, of course not," Erin's voice echoed in protest.

"I'm not an idiot!"

"I know," her hands are extended outwards as she takes a small step towards her husband, "I'm the idiot. I got distracted. I let that happen and I'm sorry. I've been an ass these last few months and I deserve your anger. I didn't know he was going to kiss me, and I know that's not an excuse, but if I had known, I wouldn't have let that happen, I would have stopped it," she's met with silence; he doesn't know how to respond and he doesn't know if he should even say anything –it would get them nowhere, "Please, say something," Erin begged.

"What the hell is going on with you?" He nearly shouts, causing for her to take her first step away from him, "I've been good to you. I've tried. I've tried so hard to accept the fact that you're friends with that guy –that guy who so obviously likes you, the same guy you assured me you had nothing going on with."

"Nothing is going on with us."

"So what was that I walked in on? I wouldn't have punched the guy if I saw nothing going on."

Looking at her husband, Erin thought hard about what to say –it was unacceptable what happened between her and Tyler; she regrets it, "Jay, I'm so sorry."

"That's all you have to say."

"What else can I say? There's no excuse and I don't want to make one," And for the first time since she pulled him away, she saw a break in his face –actual emotion starting to penetrate through, "Babe-"

"You need to start talking to me."

"I've been a little busy, we've all-"

"You obviously haven't been that busy," his remark interrupts her last statement. And instead of arguing back to defend herself, she bows her head and accepts it. She deserved his anger.

"Jay, I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" He walks over to the two-way mirror and stares at her reflection; his arms crossed over his muscle tee and he's doing everything possible to keep calm, to remain level-headed, "What's going on with you? And don't you even think about saying you don't want to talk about it here or you don't want to tell me when I'm angry. I'm tired of the excuses! What's-"

"I'm pregnant."

She says it cheerfully. Happy tears are piercing her eyes. She doesn't think about it. She just says it. She knows if she had weighed the pros and cons of telling him, in this moment, she would end up saying nothing. It's quiet. All her admission brings is immediate silence. She wants a response; she needs to hear something. Voight smiled and hugged her when she told him. Tyler gave her a compliment when he found out. Burgess and Platt had questions about it, but it was something. Lindsay approached him from behind; if he wasn't going to offer a comment, she needed to see his face. She can read him like an opened book, all she needed to see was his eyes –they'll tell it all. Her hand reaches for his arm, and he moves it away. She reaches again and gets the same response. Erin had just told him some of the biggest news that would change both of their lives immensely and all he's doing is giving her the cold shoulder. A matching rage, a protective anger boils up inside her as her arms cross over her chest, "Look, I get you're mad, you're disappointed and you're upset; you have absolutely every right to be, but babe," she takes a deep breath, "I need you to say something about what I just told you." She can hear him taking deep breaths, most likely trying to calm himself. And as he releases his third breath, she reaches her hand out to grasp his forearm, "Jay, I'm pregnant." His arm is stiff –he's frozen, "We're going to have a baby."

It felt like an eternity. It felt like she had been waiting forever for a response and movement, and finally she got it. He turned around –a hard, stoic expression on his face. His voice sounds cold when he speaks, "You're pregnant," he says it as more of a question in which she nods to answer, "Are you sure it's mine?" Jay saw her face; he watched her eyes grow watery, and almost immediately after asking the question, he regrets it. She's horrified. She opens her mouth to speak, but words fail her and she's forced to reclose it. And when he takes a step closer, preparing to renege on his words, she slaps him. With the same hand, she covers her mouth and storms out of the interrogation room. Jay releases an irritated grunt, kicking the chair across the room. Hating this whole situation, Halstead punched the wall in front of him, regretting it almost instantly when his knuckles turn a dark shade of red. He storms out of the interrogation room and enters the bullpen to get back to work, regardless of what's happening in his personal life, he had a job to do. He was too furious to try and discuss it; he needed to use work as a distraction.

"I'm going to get some air," Lindsay snatches her jacket off the back of her chair. She doesn't look his way; she only looks at Voight to make sure he heard her.

Each member of the team is doing a task Voight assigned to them. He uses their distractions to ease himself towards Halstead. Jay is running a search on each of Trent Walsh's friends who went out to the bar with him that night. As the background check continued to run, Voight leans himself against the edge of his son-in-law's desk, "Is everything alright?" He nods his head towards Erin's desk to let Jay know what he's referring to.

"Erin's pregnant," Jay states matter-of-factly; his eyes remain glued to his computer screen.

Hank pats his back, "Congratulations." Being told the news again had the same effect as the first time. He's beaming from ear to ear, completely excited to be a grandpa again and for them to become parents, but regardless of all of that, Hank knew Jay well enough to know the look on his face isn't because of an unplanned pregnancy, "What is it?"

"I caught Tyler kissing her."

"What?" Voight stands up straight, and his eyes immediately scan the bullpen in search of Detective West –the detective whose sole purpose in temporarily joining his team is to help them with their investigation, not hit on and kiss the girl he saw as a daughter.

"In the breakroom," Jay says casually, pointing over his shoulder in the direction, "just now, I saw them kissing and I hit him."

It's all Hank needed to hear. He let Jay get back to work as he walked over to the breakroom. Tyler remained inside, rubbing his hand gently against his jawline, "You're off this case." Voight states it as fact and doesn't leave much room for argument.

Tyler rises from his seat, "You can't do that!"

"I believe I just did. Grab your things and get out."

Hank leaves the breakroom before Tyler has another chance to argue or refuse. He stands in the bullpen, fuming with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Detective West grab the few things he brought to the unit. The rest of the team watches too, curious as to what happened for Tyler to leave in the middle of their case. His jacket is clenched in one hand and he's holding the handle of his briefcase in the other; it's firmly gripped in his hand, occasionally bumping against his leg as he walks to the staircase. He abruptly stops before taking a step down and he decides to speak once more to the sergeant of the team, "You can't keep me off this case. I assume we'll be running into each other again in the near future." It's all he needed to say. It's all that came to mind. West leaves. He doesn't say goodbye because he knows he'll be back. It's the only way they'll solve this case; they need him.

As he takes one step down at a time, he hears the team get back to work as if nothing happened. The last order he hears given before he leaves out of the gate is Voight telling Dawson and Olinsky to work on getting a warrant to the club footage from Indiana. He walks pass the desk sergeant, and Platt just gives him a sly look –a nod of the head signaling farewell. He pushes through the first door, angrily steps down the stairs before pushing through the second. It's not as chilly outside today as it had been the last few weeks; however, he still needed to put on his jacket. Tyler walks down the sidewalk, easily slides the sleeves of his jacket on while maneuvering his briefcase from hand to hand. The anger within him rises and lowers; he tries to remind himself not to get too upset because he knows he'll be back. The reminder was useless. It only served to be a temporary release of anger. And the second he felt it bubbling back up, he sees her. The anger suddenly disappears.

Erin is hunched over an outside trashcan –nobody in sight but her and him. Tyler walks over, drops his briefcase and carefully pulls her hair back. Nothing is coming out. She's done. And now that her hair is pulled back behind her head, she sees him in her peripheral and immediately swats him away from her. The groaning is back –she moved entirely too quick, "When's the glowing part of my pregnancy going to start?"

"I thought it already did."

This earns a smile on her face, and the tears in her eyes irritate her pupils along with the itchiness that's been occurring on and off all day. Lindsay wipes her eyes with the back of her hands –it temporarily relieves the itchiness and wipes the tears from her eyes, relieving them of the blur it caused. She sees his briefcase on the ground beside him, "Where are you going?" That briefcase hasn't left the unit since he started working there. He would leave for the night and his briefcase would stay; the fact that he's leaving with it, only meant one thing.

"I've been relieved of my duty."

She runs the back of her hand across her mouth, "You're off the case."

"Technically, but we both know I'm not one for following orders." He tries to lighten the mood and joke about kind of being fired from a case he's worked on much longer than them.

Lindsay walks over the curb of the sidewalk and takes a seat down upon it. She wants to draw her knees to her chest, but the baby bump prevents it. She simply bends her knees and brings them in as far as it would allow, "Why did you kiss me?" Her arms wrap around her bent knees and she leans her head forward to rest against her lap.

"I thought there was something between us," Tyler admits, rushing over to take a seat beside her, "I thought we were having a moment."

Her head remains pressed against her lap, "You misinterpreted. I see you as a friend, that's all. And friends don't kiss each other, especially like that."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry really isn't going to solve anything."

"I can go talk to your husband."

She shakes her head –even though her forehead is still pressed against her lap, "That's going to make it worse. He doesn't want to hear from me. And he really doesn't want to hear from you."

"I'm sorry."

Erin lifts her head, "I'm sorry Hank kind of fired you."

"Well you can thank your husband for that," he casually comments, bumping his shoulder against her arm, "I guess him and I are even."

She wipes the fallen tears off her cheeks, "What do you mean?"

"I know he said something to your sergeant."

"He did? I'm sorry for that." She turns her head to look forward, "Personal stuff shouldn't get in the way of our professional duties," She suddenly averts her eyes back in his direction, "You shouldn't have kissed me Tyler. I'm a happily married woman."

"You're married, but you don't look too happy." He says directly and insistently.

"Of course I'm happy! I'm married to the greatest man; he's perfect and-"

Tyler cuts her off, "I thought you said there's no such thing as perfection in a person."

"I mean he's perfect for me."

"Yeah, because as far as I can see Jay Halstead is far from perfect," Tyler provoked, watching as she exasperatedly slides a few feet down the curb –physically drawing away from him.

"That's beside the point," Even though she's angry at his comment, she chooses to be civil and calm in her response, "The point I'm trying to make is before you came along, we were good. We barely argued. We were so happy. And then you came into the picture and stirred things up," her head slowly turned to face him once again, "There's something about you that creates trouble." And surprisingly, of all the responses she expected, laughter wasn't one of them. He laughed –tossed his head back, mouth open wide and chuckled loudly. If she was closer to him, she would have hit him, but she's not, and instead she glares, "It's not funny."

"Look Erin," his laughter is slowly dying down, "no offense, but if your marriage was as strong as you think it is, as you say it is, our friendship wouldn't have been a problem. Your husband wouldn't have felt threatened. He's insecure. It shows; it's all over his face."

Erin adjusts her butt against the curb –it's getting uncomfortable. And instead of focusing on the rough ground hard beneath her, she finds herself rubbing against her eyes -the burn within them being more painful than the former. Tyler mistakes the red in her eyes and the wetness to her cheeks as tears, "Let me guess," He desperately wants to reach over and wipe her tears away, "you stormed out of the precinct because of your husband?" Tyler scoots over –he's beside her again. And since she didn't slide further away, he had assumed all was forgiven.

"I stormed out because of what you did." Lindsay decided to be honest in her response. She wanted to be clear so something like this will never happen again.

"I thought you wanted it."

"You should have known that I didn't want you to kiss me," Erin shouted, raising her left hand in front of his face, "because of this right here!" She points to the ring on her finger and waves it annoyingly in front of his eyes.

Tyler whispered, appearing stern and solemn, "What did he say to you?"

"I am not having this conversation with you."

"You obviously need to talk to someone."

"Yeah," Erin emphasized, wanting desperately for Tyler to understand, "but it's not going to be you. It can't be you!"

"And why not? Erin, I'm no longer working this case because of everything that happened between us. You've given me advice. Let me try to return the favor."

As she sat against the cold cement curb, her legs unbend and she stretches them out. Her hands go behind her to press against the sidewalk and she leans back, allowing her hair to loosely fall and dangle over her shoulders. It was a rare quiet , tranquility in the city. The fall breeze blew through her thin jacket and her hair blew in all sorts of directions, but she didn't mind. Her thoughts were too focused on her conversation with Tyler and everything he had to say. He's offering to be an ear to listen. He's trying to be a friend to her. He wants to give it a shot and actually provide her with advice. She can always go to Burgess, but she'll end up complaining about her relationship with Adam. Tyler was offering an ear to listen –no strings attached- and she really, desperately, wanted to talk it out with someone who wouldn't make the conversation about themselves or make her feel guilty about all the mistakes she has made in the last fourteen weeks. Erin bit down upon her bottom lip –she's thinking hard about this. Her hands are intertwined over her stretched out legs, and when she sighs out loudly, Tyler turns to look at her, knowing that she's about to speak, "My husband doesn't trust me."

"I highly doubt that he doesn't trust you. Your husband doesn't trust me."

Lindsay nods, considering that what he said was correct, but it took nothing away from the accuracy in her first statement. She sees him scoot closer and out of some type of fear or paranoia that her husband or someone she knows may come see her and interpret something that isn't there, she instinctively slides over –further away, "That's true, that's very true, but he doesn't trust me either."

"I find that hard to believe."

"If he did, he wouldn't have implied that I've been having an affair."

Tyler's mouth falls open, "He said that?" He's actually surprised. In the fourteen weeks he has known the team, Halstead had always seemed like the stress-free, confident and put-together guy that fit together perfectly with Erin. To see the underlying faults in their relationship is reassuring –to know that she doesn't have a perfect marriage to her husband is satisfying. She apparently hasn't found her perfect person yet either.

"By asking is this baby his, yeah, he basically said that."

"You told him about your pregnancy?"

"Yeah," Erin's butt goes numb against the cold cement. She places one hand against the bottom of her small baby bump and uses the other to push herself to her feet.

Tyler doesn't offer any help. He had known her long enough to know she normally doesn't accept it. He simply joins her in rising to his feet. He sees her reddish eyes filling with tears, and for the first time since joining the team, he passionately grips the back of her neck and pulls her into his chest. Detective West doesn't care who could possibly see. There's nothing against hugging, and he could tell she desperately needed one. With her head still pressed against his hard chest, he responds, "And how did he take it?"

Her voice cracks, "Not good." She's so close to allowing the tears to fall freely from her eyes, but she's trying everything in her power to suppress it.

"Erin, I'm sorry for seeing something that wasn't there." It wasn't genuine, but she believed it.

"You're my friend –that's all." Erin feels Tyler sigh against her; he's grateful. She draws out of his arms, "Nothing more, and nothing less." A part of her feels guilty for the hug, but it meant nothing. However, if it meant nothing, she shouldn't feel guilty in the first place.

Tyler sees the pout in her lips. He knows that inside that head of hers, that big brain is on overdrive. There's an internal battle that he can see through the brightness in her eyes. Tyler sets his hand upon her shoulder, breaking her out of that mental battle, "Do you really think men and women can be friends?"

"I do. I have plenty of male, platonic friendships."

"So it is possible, we can be friends."

" _Just friends_ ," Lindsay emphasizes, making sure he understood the most important part in what she's saying; her eyes are wide and serious, not a hint of play or lightheartedness within them, "because if you pull some shit like you just did, we're nothing."

"We're friends," Tyler restates, offering his hand towards her.

She shakes it, "Let's just leave the past in the past and go on with our lives. Let's pretend nothing happened." He holds her hand a bit longer than warranted, but she doesn't notice.

"I'm with it."

"Good," She pulls her hand free.

Tyler grabs the handle of his briefcase, "I should get going."

"Yeah, I should get back inside before Voight sends someone out looking for me."

They stand in front of each other. Officers occasionally walking by as they bid their farewells, however neither one moved to leave. She couldn't believe it, but Tyler had kind of grown on her. The conceit in his personality, the charm in his character, the sometimes annoying way he carries himself and the persistence he had in joining this case and befriending her was going to be missed. The man whom she once saw as a jerk and an asshole had managed to become that irritating friend you find yourself needing to be around every once in a while.

"I can't believe I got kicked off this case," Tyler murmured, standing in actual shock that he has been dismissed; it has never happened before. The look he gives her, the plea in his eyes and the slight frown to his lips kicks her pregnancy hormones into overdrive. She feels bad for him. He has worked this case longer than anyone and now he was relieved of duty. He had to go back to his district and face who knows who about why he was kicked off. Erin did feel bad for him. It was a slip of judgment, a misinterpretation of something that wasn't there. It shouldn't have gotten him kicked out, especially since this case is much bigger than a one-sided kiss; this case deserves everyone's attention and effort.

Erin steps towards him; she gives him a reassuring smile, "I'll see what I can do about that."

"Thanks Erin," he sighs in relief. Tyler knows her connection to Voight and if there was anyone to get him back in the unit, it would be her. His eyes fall to her belly; she isn't showing much, but he knows in the next week or two, it'll start to become noticeable, "Also good luck," he holds back the urge to rub the small bump, "and congratulations on the baby. You're already the perfect wife, the perfect detective and the perfect friend. I hope I can see you being the perfect mother as well."

She doesn't argue or correct him. She simply accepts the compliment, "Thank you."

As she stands in front of him, her jacket opened with her hands stuffed inside, she grins when he offers her another much needed hug. Her pregnancy has caused her to become a great ball of mush. Hugs and laughter had become her temporary cure. West wraps his arms around her shoulders, steering his hands clear of any inappropriate contact or what could be seen as improper touching. It's a loose hug, but she's still in his arms. The wind blows for the umpteenth time since they've been outside and he gets a deep whiff of her hair –it smells angelic, a mixture between vanilla scent and flowers. He doesn't want to let go. He takes another whiff and grins as he breathes out the heavenly scent, "Any time I think of you, I always end up smiling. Thanks for that." The hug lasts longer than usual so Erin makes the effort to pull back.

"If I can make someone smile, even after they got fired, then I guess I'm not as bad as I thought." No further words are spoken between two. They walk pass each other; he's going to his car and she's going back inside the precinct. She's going back into reality –the world where her husband is pissed at her, she's pissed at him and they both have to work together in order to solve this horrific case.

As Erin pushes through the second door to enter the precinct, she spots Platt. She's talking on the phone and holding up a finger, signaling for Erin to hold on a second. The detective stops walking and approaches the front desk, patiently waiting for the sergeant to wrap up her phone call. And once she did, Sergeant Platt didn't hesitate to get right to the point, "Lindsay, what happened? I can spare an hour to talk."

"I don't want to talk about it," the detective pats her hand against the desk as she draws away from it. She hears the access gate unlock and wraps her fingers through the slits in order to pull it open. Erin can feel Platt watching her walk away, and she appreciated the friend and the maternal figure Platt has offered her through the years, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She exhausted the topic and all she would be doing is repeating what she has already said –she got it off her chest and talking about it with Platt wouldn't change anything.

Voight watched her reenter and instead of calling her over, he gains her attention and nods towards his office. He wants to talk about it. He was her boss. She had no choice in the matter. She took that shameful walk down the aisle, eyes glaring at Jay as he purposely and noticeably avoids eye contact with her. He's staring extra hard down at his computer screen, the background check is running on Trent's last friend; the other friends had successfully passed their checks. No one else notices the tension in the room; the rest of the team remains oblivious to the conversations that occurred between her and Tyler, Halstead and Voight, Tyler and Voight and now her and Voight. Pulling her eyes away from Jay, she walks into Hank's office, and the second Voight shuts the door behind them, he speaks, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I can explain," she immediately responds, quickly turning around to face him.

"Erin, don't ruin this." Hank keeps his voice low; he isn't angry, he's more worried than anything, "You have something good, don't screw it up."

"Hank, you can't take his side."

"I'm taking the side of what's right!"

She jumps back and bites her lip, "You don't know everything!"

"…then tell me!"

"There's nothing going on with me and Tyler. I swear. He's just a friend who got caught up in a moment. It was a stupid mistake."

Voight walks around her, "Did Jay catch you two kissing?" He takes a seat in his desk chair.

"He walked in at the wrong time."

"So that's a yes?"

Erin turns to face him, "Yes."

"Good riddance to the guy," Voight growls, moving the mouse of his computer to bring life to the screen; it lights up and illuminates his face, causing for him to reduce the brightness.

Lindsay takes a seat in one of the empty chairs and uses her feet to slide it as close to his desk as possible. She leans forward, reaches for Hank's hand and squeezes it gently, "Voight, we can't let our personal feelings get in the way of us solving this case! He won't do it again, but you can't let our mistake stop us from getting justice for those women."

"I'm in charge. I can do whatever the hell I want." Voight casually replies, he's typing along his computer –what he's working on, she doesn't know.

"Hank, please," she reaches forward and pushes his keyboard away, "just hear me out. The terms you two set were to allow him to solve this case with us and then he's gone; he's out of here."

"Yeah, that's true, but I just can't stand your little boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," she remarks, correcting his purposely mocking slipup.

"I don't like him."

"Neither does most of the team, but some of them respect him professionally." Erin proclaimed; her eyes eventually drifting down to stare at the closed file resting on his desk –the original file, "He brought us that case file…it got us the warrant."

"That was months ago."

"Hank, those women deserve all hands on deck."

"You're right," he simply agrees, expression stoic upon his face as he leans back in his seat and intertwines his fingers over his abdomen, "but all hands can't be on deck when you're in the breakroom kissing your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend! Stop calling him that!" Erin asserted, jumping to her feet in irritation, "He's just a friend. That's all." She leans forward and her opened palms lay flat against his desk, "And he started this case, I just figured, he should be able to end it."

Voight looks as if he's considering everything she just said, but with the shake of his head, he dismisses it, "I said no. He's not coming back. And the more you keep pressing the issue, the more I'm starting to think you actually do have feelings for him."

"I don't."

Hank leans forward, "…then drop it kid. We'll solve this case with or without him." The expression on Erin's face gets lighter. She accepts it.

"Okay. I'll drop it."

That look of guilt, that look of blame and fault is apparent on her face. She says she'll drop it, but the determination in her eyes and the stubbornness in her character prove otherwise. Her hand subconsciously drops to her stomach; she cradles the small bump as she retakes her seat. Voight watches her; he sees the wheels turning in her head as she tries to think of a way to change his stubborn mind. It's not going to work. Hank still watches her though –tilts his head to the side in curiosity, "Why are you trying so hard to bring him back?"

"…because it's my fault you let him go." One lonely tear drops from her eye and rolls down her face. Voight knew that something like this wouldn't normally get to her; it could be the pregnancy hormones, but he wasn't going to say anything in those regards.

"No, it's his fault." Hank explained, rising from his seat and walking around his desk, "He kissed you, not the other way around." It's his best attempt at ridding her of the blame.

"How do you know?"

"…because I know you I know you wouldn't intentionally kiss someone while married to someone else. I know you wouldn't have an affair. I know you wouldn't risk breaking up your family. I know you Erin."

"You understand that, I just wish Jay did."

"Halstead loves you kid. He's just hurt. And to be honest, any man would be," Hank's words are gentle and judgment free; he's leant against his desk with his hand cradling her chin –ensuring he has her undivided attention. "The fact that he's even acting like this just shows that he loves you. You see Tyler as a friend, but he sees something more. A friendship won't work if you two aren't on the same page. You've always had a kind heart, it's one of the many things I saw in you years ago which let me know you weren't like the other street kids. And I know you enough to know that you hate being the bad guy, but Erin you can't please everyone, and your husband takes precedence over a friend you've known for three months. Focus on your marriage. Focus on getting back to where you two used to be. Don't ruin what you've spent years to build."

"I won't. I love him too. It just feels like we're drifting apart."

Voight nods, completely understanding her thoughts and how she's feeling, "That's normal and it's good that you've recognized it before you've fully drifted," Hank stands up straight, "You two deserve each other. Make an effort to fix things."

"How am I supposed to do that when I am so mad at him?" Erin exclaims, quickly turning around as he approaches his closed office door.

His hand hovers above the doorknob; he grips it, but doesn't twist it, "Why are you mad at him? He's the one who caught you with Tyler." Hank releases the doorknob.

"We're mad at each other," Erin admits, watching as Voight turns around fully to face her, "He said something that really hurt me."

"And-"

"And I don't want to repeat it."

"Are you okay kid?" He closes the distance between them; his arms envelope her into a hug, and he protectively and reassuringly rubs her back, "You know you can talk to me whenever. No matter when or what about, I'm always here for you."

Before any tears could fall from her eyes, she clears her throat and steps back. Erin's smile meets Voight's confused expression. She flattens out her outfit and clears her throat, "I'm going to be fine," she moves around her father figure and head towards his office door, "I'm going to go make me some tea to settle the nerves in my stomach." Hank nods.

Lindsay leaves out and purposely stares down at the ground to avoid Jay's gaze of the eye. His orbs follow her as she disappears into the breakroom. She approaches the counter and rises to the tip of her toes to pull the cabinet doors open, "Where is it?" She's scanning for her mug, "You have got to be kidding me," she spots it and it's on the top shelf. It's an obvious sign that someone has used and washed it because she would never put her own mug on a shelf she couldn't reach. Erin turns around and grips the back of a chair to drag over. She pushes it as close to the countertop as possible, before climbing on to it.

"Erin, you shouldn't-"

"Please," she interrupts her husband as he rushes up to her side, "don't tell me that I shouldn't be doing this unless you're going to actually do it for me."

"Erin, come on, get down," Jay urged, his eyes are wide open as one hand holds the chair steady and the other goes to her lower back, "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm trying," she grunts, stretching her hand as far up and back as her height would allow, "I'm trying to get my mug."

"You're pregnant!"

She immediately looks down at him before angrily looking back up, "Why are you worried about it? Apparently you don't think it's your baby. If it's not your baby, it isn't your concern."

Jay let out a heavy sigh, "I didn't mean what I said."

"Yes you did," she takes a momentary glance downwards in his direction, "And I get it," Lindsay shrugs before focusing back on the task at hand, "I haven't exactly been the beckon of trust lately." She rises to the tip of her toes to see above the tallest cabinet shelf.

His hand remained pressed against her lower back –she surprisingly didn't swat it away, "I said the one thing I knew would upset you. I was hurting –sorry, I am hurting- and I wanted you to hurt too. And I realize that just because I'm mad at what happened doesn't mean I should try and intentionally hurt your feelings."

"You're right, but you did."

The chair squeaks and both of Jay's hands immediately fly to her hips; his eyes wide in panic, "Come on down. Please. You're pregnant."

"I know Jay. You don't have to keep reminding me."

"This chair doesn't look steady."

"It's fine."

The chair squeaks again as she rises more onto the tips of her toes, "Would you please stop? You're going to hurt yourself!" He's contemplating on where to position himself; he needed the best placement for if she unfortunately fell.

"I'm pregnant, not incapacitated!"

The disadvantages of her short height sometimes irritated her. She's reaching back for her cup; it's all the way at the far end of the cabinet, touching the back. Her fingertips brush against it, but it's unable to grip the handle. Actually, instead of sliding it closer, she unintentionally pushes it further away, "Damn it!"

"Get down; I'll get it."

"I got it," Erin stated matter-of-factly.

"Why did you even put your cup all the way back there?"

"I didn't," she snaps, looking down at him once more, "I can't even reach back there so why would I do all of this to put my mug at the back of the cabinet?" She looks back up and sees the corner of her cup, waiting patiently to be grabbed and filled with tea. She sighs.

"Erin, get down."

She's irritated, "Don't you have a job to do?"

"Yeah, the same job you need to do!"

"I'm fine. I have this. Now would you just go and leave me alone?" Erin shouts, angrily pointing her finger in the direction of the door –she's mad and the anger brings tears to her eyes.

"What if you fall while I'm gone?" Jay asked with a concerned expression apparent on his face.

"You'll be right in the next room."

"That's my kid too," he argued.

She chuckles dryly in response, "It's funny how just an hour ago you weren't saying that."

"Why are you even mad at me? I had every right to question whether or not that baby is mine."

"Do you really think that low of me Jay?"

It's a rhetorical question –at least to Jay it is. Erin was actually waiting for an answer. And when one doesn't come, she immediately looks down at him and without using any words, his eyes plead for her to get down. They're already mad at each other, and without grabbing her mug, she allows him to help her down. She drops her hand –eyes red and puffy- and on the count of three, he lifts her up and sets her down. Once her feet safely land on the ground, Jay uses his height to reach up and grab the mug from the back shelf. He barely reaches it himself, but after rising to the tip of his toes, his fingers loop through the handle of the mug.

"Thank you," she whispers, using one hand to take the mug from him while the other hand pushes the chair back against the table.

Once she expressed her thanks, Lindsay doesn't pay him anymore attention as she goes to the counter and begins making her a cup of tea. She's silent. He's quiet. She knows he's watching her, but she acts like she doesn't notice. She doesn't want to notice. She honestly wants him to leave her alone. Erin knows she screwed up with Tyler. She knows she has to earn back his trust. However, the combination of pregnancy hormones and his hurtful words made it hard for her to try. She's so angry. She's hurt. She thinks they need a break; they need a break from each other. It's the only clear alternative to this. She can barely think of anything besides the fact that her husband thinks she crawled into bed and had unprotected sex with someone else. And she knows –she knows just by the look in his eye that he keeps picturing the kiss between her and Tyler. He's only trying to make amends for the baby, not for him, for her, or for their marriage. She didn't want one of those relationships; she didn't want the relationship where the parents stayed together for the child, it would do more harm than good. She refused to let her kid grow up in a household like that. It's either they're truly happy together or happy apart.

"Er," she knows he's about to attempt to apologize and she doesn't cut him off, "I'm…I'm so sorry. I regret what I said. I didn't mean it at all."

"I have nothing to say to you." Tears form in her eyes –it's from both the burn reddening them and her feelings being hurt. She knows he doesn't mean it. It's all just spoken to save face. And what's the point in accepting his apology when every time she looks at him, she sees the anger in his eyes? Tyler's out of the picture, but Jay is still mad.

"Erin-"

She slams her hot cup of tea down, "You want to know something?" Lindsay immediately turns to face him and watch him answer her question with a nod, "The moment I start thinking that life has given me something to be happy about; you turn around and ruin it."

"I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said."

"That kiss didn't mean anything," she quips, her voice practically begging for him to believe her, "I wasn't expecting it. It meant absolutely nothing because I feel nothing for him. I love you."

"I don't want to talk about it."

She turns back to face her cup of tea –allowing it to cool off; her shoulders immediately tensing at his sign of rejection, "You don't want to talk about the huge elephant in the room? You don't want to talk about what's still bothering you; it's all in your face," her hands curl and her nails scratch against the counter, "You don't want to talk about what hurt you, but you want to keep talking about what hurt me?"

"Erin-"

"Be careful with what you say" she cuts him off and immediately cringes once she hears an emotional break in her voice, "because…because," it's still breaking and tears are falling uncontrollably from her eyes, "sometimes the hot air that comes out of your mouth can't be solved with a simple and meaningless I'm sorry."

Jay watched her resume stirring her tea, the occasional sniff or hiccup sounded as she tried to stop her tears from flowing. He didn't want to talk about what happened between her and Tyler because he wanted to forget about it. It was one kiss –he tries to remind himself of that. It's hard though, especially when you walk in and see the kiss. Halstead could tell that it was a one-sided kiss, but Tyler's lips were still on hers –they were still touching his wife's lips. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. He wanted them to go back to what they were and who they were before Tyler came into the picture. As Jay thinks of what to say next, the continual sniffing and hiccupping coming from his wife distracts him; he's focused on that. How can he not be? She's crying. She never cries, at least not in front of him.

He reaches out for her hand, "Babe, don't cry."

"Can you leave me alone?" She raises her hands and steps away from him, "Please." Her voice sounded so sad, so fragile and so weak. He hears her sniff again. He wants to comfort her.

"Erin-"

"When you wanted to be left alone, I left you alone." She tries her best to sound normal; she doesn't want to come across mean at her next request, "Now I'm asking you do the same for me. Please," Erin notices Jay's eyes fall towards her small baby bump; he squints to notice it more, the loose shirt manages to obscure its vision, but when her hands settle on it, he immediately notices the shaping, "If it's not about the case or the baby Jay," she turns to look at him and he finally sees the dark reddish color in her eyes, "then I don't want to hear it." He opens his mouth to speak and she shakes her head to stop him.

He lifts his foot to take a step forward and she raises one hand, stopping him from approaching any closer and without uttering another word, grabs another apple and her tea and departs the room in complete silence. Erin walks out into the bullpen and she purposely keeps her head low –buried behind her hair- to hide her red eyes and her wet cheeks. As she sets her mug of tea and her apple down onto her desk, she uses the back of her thumbs to wipe beneath her eyes. The team's discussing the case; she's listening in as she takes a seat. She hears them discuss victim by victim, starting with Lucy Grant and Shelby Ward in Indianapolis –they're going over every piece of information no matter how small and seemingly unimportant it is, if it's included in the file, it's currently being brought up and talked about extensively.

"So we know Lucy had teeth implants and Amanda had breast implants," Olinsky comments, eyes taking a glance at the ceiling as a thought rolls into his head, "what if our perpetrator is a doctor? Or someone in the medical field?"

Dawson bites his lip and shakes his head in rebuff, "I don't think so; the medical examiner in the report said that the cuts to their skin and ligaments were very unprofessional and sloppy."

"Maybe he's a dentist?" Atwater offered an alternative.

"Nah," Ruzek lifts up Lucy's opened file, "remember, he removed all of her teeth instead of just the implanted ones. A dentist would have been able to tell the difference between the two."

"What about Linda?" Burgess spoke up, eyes settling on Erin as she watched her best friend sip her tea quietly, "and Claire? What about Michelle? What about Trent?" Kim's eyes avert towards Halstead as he walks over to his desk, opens Michelle's file and reads it in order to avoid the watchful gaze of both Kim and Erin.

"We're stuck," Ruzek asserts, slamming Lucy's file back down onto his desk.

"Don't say that," Erin murmured, setting down her empty cup of tea; she's calm and somber, "if you say we're stuck, we're going to start thinking we're stuck and then we'll actually be stuck. Let's look at the obvious distinctions instead of trying to find the obvious connections," everyone ignores Lindsay's reddened and tear-dried face as she looks over at the whiteboard, "Each of our victims was found in a park or garden, but Trent was found in his car."

"Trent was basically mutilated; our perpetrator took no mercy on him," Dawson added.

Burgess stared down at the opened file on Trent –her eyes could only look at the crime scene photo for seconds at a time, it was too graphic and gruesome, "Trent's crime scene was left sloppy. He didn't care for Trent the way he cared for the other women."

"And there has to be a reason for that," Erin replied, before taking a bite of her apple. She finds it soothing to nibble on food throughout the day –sometimes healthy snacks, and other times junk food, but either way, now that she's in her second trimester, the baby approved.

Halstead remained sitting at his desk, silently working on something. By the creased line in his forehead, Erin could tell he has noticed something that they've all must have overlooked. He doesn't speak right away, instead he goes to the computer, the tips of his fingers flying across the keyboard and his wide eyes scan whatever search he typed in and entered. He grabs the computer monitor and turns the screen around, "Guys, I…I think I found something!"

Voight walks over, "What is it?"

"There were traces of a chemical swabbed and tested around Michelle's mouth after her lips and tongue was taken," Halstead began to explain, pointing his finger against a chemical compound written in bold in the article on the computer screen, "Botulinum toxin type A, I just looked it up. It's an ingredient in Botox cosmetic. It's a chemical found in Botox injections."

It's Dawson who reiterates Halstead's point, "You think her lips were taken because she got Botox surgery?"

"It can't be a coincidence," Jay sighs, turning his computer screen back to face him.

Burgess speaks up –reminding the team of one other important detail, "What about her tongue?"

"Do people get Botox on their tongue?" Ruzek asks, eyes wide in curiosity.

"No," Burgess flatly responds, rolling her eyes, "and the drug wasn't found inside her mouth, just where her lips are supposed to be."

Atwater shrugs, "Maybe he couldn't take her lips without taking her tongue?"

"What?" Voight's head immediately whips in Kevin's direction.

"It was just a thought," Atwater replies, frowning.

"Why cut out her tongue?" Olinsky states the question that baffles everyone's mind; he removes his hat from the top of his head, and rests his palm against the center of his forehead, "It just seems so random, and so odd."

Erin swallows her bite of apple, "At least we can add her to the connection between Amanda, and Lucy," she takes another bite.

"We can't be so sure," Burgess interjects, she begins a slow walk up and down the center aisle, "Just because someone got work done at one point in their life doesn't automatically form a connection. We can't just assume here."

Erin looks at Jay, "When did she get Botox?" She maintains her professionalism as she speaks to him for the first time since their argument.

"…a day before she was killed," he reads from the autopsy report.

Erin looks back at Burgess –meeting her best friend's eyes, "See, there is a connection there." She turns back to face her team, "Surgery or some type of alteration has to be our connection."

"And we have no speculation on why he took her tongue?" Voight frowned, steering the conversation back onto one of the many questions that remain unanswered.

A brief silence falls over the bullpen that is occasionally interrupted by sporadic bites of Erin's apple. The crunch and the chews go unnoticed because each team member's focus is on the important matter at hand. Burgess continues pacing as she tries to think of some sort of explanation to Michelle's tongue being removed. Ruzek's arms are crossed and rested on top of his desk, with his head lying against his crisscrossed forearms. Halstead is staring at the computer screen, hoping that the answer would just pop up out of nowhere. And Dawson, he's looking at his copy of Michelle's file, he's reading the character statements from both of her parents and one of her closest friends –a similar statement is found within each report.

"Voight, she was an alcoholic," Antonio states what they already know, however when he hops to his feet they can see the urgency in what he says; he truly feels like he made the breakthrough, he answered the question, "That could be considered the alteration –a change to her body. She was a young, beautiful female, intoxicating her body. Her mother said that Michelle tried to steer clear of bars and that she obviously relapsed."

Hank approaches, "Good point, but what about Trent? Or Claire? Or Linda?" He watches each of his detectives scramble to reopen those case files, "They must have had some change," he peers over Dawson's shoulder as he flips through the loose pages within Claire's file, "There's no coincidence that most of our victims had surgery or some type of alteration around the time they were killed. See if they were addicts or something." He points at Mouse, preparing to give him another task, "Pause the surveillance footage; I know you were finally getting to our second victim, but I need you to look up their doctors, their dentists, their health care providers…I need another connection, we need a suspect. Check their health records too."

As each detective scrambles to do as they've been ordered, Platt ascends upon the stairs. She's always light on her feet and quiet –her presence is announced when she's good and ready for it to be announced. The second she reaches the top stair, she clears her throat –no one hears. They're all too engrossed in the witness statements and the character reports of their victims. Once they are able to get a guaranteed connection, then they are able to close that chapter of the case. It closes that door, and opens a door that brings forth a limited suspect pool. It'll be a huge step; a step in which they will be able to warn his potential victims.

"Hey, I'll be quick." Platt interrupts their flow as she walks towards Lindsay's desk, "I just came to deliver something." She extends the small package towards the confused detective, "This just came for you a few minutes ago."

"It did," Erin whispers, unwrapping the gift-wrapped box, "Who is it from?"

"It doesn't say." Platt's too curious to leave. Her hands are in her pockets and she's rocking back and forth on her feet in anticipation.

Voight approaches the other sergeant, "Who delivered it Trudy?"

"A homeless person off the street was given ten bucks to deliver it here," she shrugs it off, while her eyes never once left the sealed box.

"Open it kid."

Erin nods, recognizing Voight's order. Once the gift wrap is removed, she grabs scissors from her draw to slide the blade across the taped opening, "What is it?" Burgess is quick to ask the second Erin's wide eyes and furrowed brows react to whatever she's looking at.

"Hair…"

Halstead rises from his seat, "What?"

"It's a few strands of hair."


	9. Eye Drops

She's showing. At sixteen weeks –four months pregnant- she's noticeably showing. It's amazing to her that three weeks ago, her pregnancy wasn't as obvious –now, it's visibly apparent. Erin is too much in a good mood to allow the intentional silence in the car to affect her; they just left her doctor's appointment, the baby is healthy, her energy is coming back and her morning sickness is gone. Even though the whole unit knows about her pregnancy, she and Jay are still barely speaking to each other. The only conversations that transpired between them either involved work or the baby; they had just seen the ultrasound of their baby together –they should be talking about this, instead their bubbling with happiness separately. Jay's smile is beaming from ear to ear; his argument with Erin taking a back seat to the image he had seen on the screen. It made it so much more real. And as they sit at the red light, Jay's eyes avert from the road and over towards his wife –trailing from her face and settling on her baby bump. The fact that there's a baby –his baby- growing in there has him overfilled with joy. He wants to reach out and touch it –rub it; however he and Erin haven't expressed any words to each other since leaving the doctor's office. He doesn't want to ruin the good mood in the car, so he battles against every thought and impulse and instead of turning completely around to extend his hand; he focuses back on the road.

"We're actually going to be parents," it's her who speaks up and Jay's stubbornness prevents him from responding, it prevents him from even looking in her direction, "We're going to be responsible for a baby and despite what you think and how you feel, this baby is yours."

No further words are spoken in their short stop at the red light. Halstead even finds himself acting as if he never even heard her. His fingers drumming against the steering wheel and he's humming some made up tune. She feels indifferent towards his attitude; she slightly feels like she deserves it. Erin is so mad at him and she's even angrier at the fact that she's actually, really, furious at him. She can't control how she feels towards a situation, and she can't control the fact that since that day, three weeks ago, all she can think of is him implying that she's having a sloppy affair to which she ended up pregnant. It's hurtful. And while many people can say that he's justified in his question or you can't blame him for asking it, it doesn't make the pain in what he said actually go away. It doesn't just rationalize itself out in her head to which she can quickly turn off her emotions and accept his words and all that it implies.

You can call her dumb, insensitive, selfish or just plain foolish for the course of action she has taken these last three months, but she's human –she makes choices that aren't always the right ones. Ever since getting married, she's no longer the carefree and fun Erin that she has always been; she became the suburban housewife. She became someone she isn't and now that's she having a baby, that person, that image she so desperately tries to avoid is all coming back. So yeah, waiting until her second trimester to tell the father of her child about her pregnancy was wrong, but she's human, and she knew that by telling him, everything about it would become real –it'll be a reality she's forced to live in. And thinking about it, forced is a strong word. It's not that she doesn't want this baby; she's just completely terrified at the prospect of being someone's mother, someone's caretaker, and someone's protector. This wasn't how she pictured it –her life; she never pictured it like this. She never thought she would get married and now that she is, everything that came along with it came all at once –she has to constantly open up, share her feelings, tell someone where she's going, why she's doing something and everything else in between that came along with having a spouse. She signed up to love Jay forever –and she does- but there can be no denying or avoiding the fact that they're going through something –their marriage is on the rocks and their baby can't be the sole reason to stay together.

"I'm really sorry for not telling you about the baby sooner," she whispers, but he hears her loud and clear. She's still angry, but she knows she owed him that apology. It was up to him to accept whenever he was ready. And even though she was truly sorry for withholding really important news from him, for almost four months, it didn't take away from the other emotions she felt in regards to what he said about her baby –their baby.

She didn't care about Jay not trusting Tyler –she cared about him not trusting her. He didn't marry Tyler. He didn't make vows to him, live with him and he didn't even truly know him, but Jay knows her. He knows that never in a million years would she have an affair. He knows she wouldn't initiate a kiss and she especially wouldn't accept one from him. He knows she can be a little rough around the edges, closed off; protective and sympathetic towards those who've came from a similar background as herself. Tyler is an escape; he's a person with a similar background to her who came above the obstacles set upon him in order to become a detective and help people. He became a detective to help people, and that's what she sees in him, the same thing she sees in all of her friends. That's all she has the capacity to give him –friendship, nothing more. So maybe it's a good thing that Voight released Detective West from his official duty on this case –her team is knowledgeable and efficient enough to solve it without him. It's a good thing since she hasn't had to worry about anymore arguments sparked at work. It's a good thing because she can only offer Tyler friendship while he expects more. It's a good thing because she hasn't seen him since he left Intelligence; she hasn't communicated with him and hasn't argued with her husband about him. However, just because Tyler left didn't mean their marital problems magically resolved themselves.

Jay wasn't speaking to her. She was hardly speaking to him. He's mad at her. She's angry with him. He wants space. She wants space. It seems that with Tyler gone, none of their problems left with him –they're here, following them around wherever they go. Even at work, the one place they're supposed to leave their personal life behind, they both seem to have it phase into their professional roles. It's affecting their job. It's affecting their case. It's affecting everything. And they both know it. Erin knows it as she stares down at her wedding ring; it's sparkling, it's beautiful and it represents their promises to one another, a promise that they both seem to have forgotten. She places her left hand –the hand which held the finger that possesses her wedding band- over her stomach, there's a flutter inside –not kicking- just movement, beneath her belly button. And for the first time, all of her worries and all of her regrets are gone, she's focused on the baby, and she's happy –so happy, she wants to tell Jay, she wants him to know too. They were in agreement, anything involving the baby or work is acceptable to talk about, anything else, they simply chose against sharing.

"Jay," for the first time since their last argument, she's smiling, dimples piercing through and everything, "Jay!"

"We agreed to a silent car ride."

And he was right. When they left the doctor's office, they did agree to ride silently. They already talked and expressed themselves happily after the appointment, and then after her follow up eye appointment at the ophthalmologist office. She couldn't be mad because she agreed. So with that, Erin silently embraces and adores the slight flutters in her tummy; the smile on her face is evidence of her enjoyment and when Jay notices, he immediately regrets his words, however, the stubbornness in him prevents him from reneging on them. This wasn't how their marriage was supposed to go; their love was too strong to allow some jerk to get in between. As Halstead parks in front of the precinct, he builds up every ounce of fiber to turn and face her, but by the time he gathers the courage and pushes aside the obstinate attitude to speak to her, she's already out of the car. Jay soon follows after her, wanting just as bad as she is to get into the building and out of the unpleasant weather –it's drizzling with thunder clapping every few seconds afterwards. It just started. It came from nowhere. One second the sky is bright and sunny and the next, it's cloudy, drizzling rain and thundering.

As the drops fall lightly onto their clothes, an obvious pep in Erin's step becomes apparent as she ascends up the outside stairs –Jay protectively following closely behind her. She pretends not to notice, and while normally it would irritate her, all she's focused on now is showing off her ultrasound pictures. Her argument with Jay is filed straight in the back of her mind. They're both flip-flopping right now; they both need their space, but when one misses the other, they try to reach out; get blatantly rejected an end up doing the same to the other when they're finally ready to talk. It's all a mess, a mess that time will hopefully lighten up and heal.

Normally when Erin and Jay enter into the precinct, Platt greets them and buzzes them up. She's off today and the sergeant filling in for her silently buzzes them up without greeting or even glance in their direction. Erin's grip holds tightly onto the ultrasound print outs and she can't help herself but to look at them as she climbs the stairs to Intelligence –Halstead still behind, holding his hands out just in case she tripped and fell. By the time she reached the top step, she released a long breath of air. She's carrying extra weight that she's not used to; it's the weight of her growing baby in combination with her added body weight gain. As Erin got her breathing together, she scans the room –the first person she noticed was Detective West, sitting at her desk, annoyingly tapping his fingers against the table. Jay notices him too. And the couple briefly shares a look, written confusion evident on both of their faces as they each wonder why he's even here. Erin didn't know and neither did he, and before either could question it, their team notices their presence, immediately lighten up at the sight of them and starts walking over.

"How was the appointment?" Olinsky asks, hanging up his desk phone. There's a wide smile on his face, and after weeks of bad news and topics, it felt good to focus the conversation on something positive and refreshing.

"Everything is going great with the baby." Halstead answers, walking over to his desk and draping his leather jacket around the back of his desk chair.

Lindsay raises the ultrasound photos into the air, "I have print outs."

"Let me see! Let me see!" Burgess is practically beaming and her excitement becomes contagious –it pulls a bright smile onto Erin's face and it gives Halstead a hardy chuckle. She notices Kim has dark shades on –covering her eyes- but she doesn't mention it. They're both too excited and ready to look at the ultrasound photos of her baby. Burgess snatches the photos from her friend, "Oh my gosh!" Kim exclaims, flipping through each one as West walks over to peer at the pictures from over Kim's shoulder, "Look at the baby!"

Burgess feels West's arm drape around her shoulders as the two detectives happily flip through each photo. Erin is watching the two –they're seemingly close. Burgess doesn't look irritated with Tyler's presence, which is rare, and Tyler seems to be warming up to her and actually giving her physical contact. The two are whispering over the photos, pointing out different bulges and blurbs that the semi-clear picture shows.

"That's the head," Kim whispers, pointing towards the largest spot in the picture, "um, I'm not exactly sure what this is, but it's cute anyway."

"Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" Erin changes the subject, sliding up to her best friend's side to look over her other shoulder as she switches to the third -and last- copy of the ultrasound picture, "Are you okay?"

Kim smiles and shakes her head, "I don't want to talk about it. Aw, this is going to be one adorable baby. Look," she points it out to Tyler, "it says Baby Halstead in the corner."

"Are you sure? We can go into the breakroom if you want to make sure no one hears."

"I'm hungover," Burgess says nonchalantly.

"You went out last night?" Erin asks, noticing how Kim is purposely looking longer at the last photo, "I was wondering why you didn't answer my calls. I wanted to come over."

"I needed to be alone."

Erin firmly tugs onto her best friend's arm, "You never drink alone. What's wrong?"

"Enough about me," Kim smiles, extending the photos back to Erin, "tell me everything."

Lindsay walks over to her desk and sets one copy of the ultrasound down, "The baby is a little bit bigger than the size of a bell pepper," she walks over to Halstead to hand him the second copy, "which is weird thinking about because the lunch we grabbed before the appointment had peppers in it. I know it's easy to compare the baby's size to food, but the last appointment we had, the baby was the size of an apple and you know my whole pregnancy, I've been craving them and I find that a little weird. I told my doctor to just stick to actual measurements."

Lindsay holds the last photo securely between her fingers. Her thumb brushes across the black and white image as she focuses in on the baby blurb imprinted onto the print out paper. She smiles and steps to Voight's door –absolutely ready to give him this photo. Dawson gets up from his desk and walks over to a grinning Halstead, "And how are you feeling?" Antonio leans against the edge of Jay's desk and watches the father-to-be avert his eyes from the ultrasound photo and up to his friend to acknowledge his question.

"…I'm on cloud nine," Jay admits in a whisper; it's a low tone that sighs its way out. The photo is between two of his fingers and he's twirling it around happily.

"I remember the feeling; it's amazing," Dawson gives the younger detective a squeeze of the shoulder before rising to his feet. He leaves Jay to bask in the glee of impending fatherhood. All of them had an important case to focus on.

Erin twists the unlocked knob of his office door and cracks it open; she pokes her head inside to find him working diligently. There's a hard expression on his face as he flips through pages, page after page, he's taking in each underlined, bolded and/or highlighted sentence or word. He's the sergeant of Intelligence and it reflects badly on him when his unit is unable to find the person they've been searching to find for four months. His team is supposed to be one of the best squads out there, yet they're stuck, just like the Indianapolis police unit.

"Knock, knock."

Without lifting his head and looking her way, he responds, "Come in. How was the doctor's appointment?" His eyes are still focused on the documents spread out in front of him.

"I have something for you."

Her words cause for him to look up. He breaks focus and sees her standing in front of him, holding out a small black and white photo with an ultrasound picture etched into it. It's a welcomed distraction, and the smile pulled at his lips as he takes a hold of the photo proves just how welcomed and wanted it truly was, "Did you find out the gender?" He rises from his seat.

"No," Erin's hand settles onto her stomach, "this little button here wasn't in a good position for the doctor to see. We're going to try again at our next appointment."

He sighs, "Looking at this photo just makes it all more real." The aged, or in other words, the wisdom lines on his face crease in as he focuses on the image of baby Halstead.

"Yeah, well, carrying all this extra weight has made it pretty real for me."

Hank chuckles, "So, your appointment?"

"The baby is-"

"Not that one, your other one. The one you had after your OB appointment."

"My eye appointment…"

"Yes"

Erin brushes it off with the wave of her hand, "It's nothing to worry about, it's just my contact lenses got dry and started irritating my eyes. If I had went to get them looked at sooner, I would have stopped using the contact lenses, but I just thought it was allergies, so now I'm stuck with squirting this," she reaches into her purse and pulls out a bottle of eye drops, "into my eyes two to three times a day. These eye drops will moisten my eyes enough to prevent the burning and irritation they've been feeling on and off for the last couple of weeks."

Without setting the ultrasound photo down, he walks around his desk. His eyes peer downwards as they focus in on hers, "Your eyes are looking better."

She flutters them and smiles, "Yeah, well I'm not wearing any contacts. I'll have my new batch by the end of the week. I'll be carpooling with Jay until then."

"Speaking of Jay," Hank clears his throat, and leans back to take a seat at the edge of his desk, "How are you two?" He positions the ultrasound photo against the side of his grandson's framed first grade school picture.

Her eyes focus in on the picture of her nephew, reminding her that she needed to give him a call to see how his first week of school has been. She stares at his smile, her own smile appearing at his two missing front teeth, and she feels Hank's eyes upon her, bringing her back to their current conversation, "I don't want to talk about it," she bites the inside of her cheek, "What I do want to talk about is why West is here? We haven't seen or heard from him in weeks."

"West is here?"

Before Lindsay can answer the question, Voight is already out of his office and into the bullpen. He spots Detective West chatting it up with Burgess and the team watches him as he storms towards the new detective, "What are you doing here?"

"I just came to stop by and see how the case was doing."

"We're not giving you any news or updates," Hank asserts, releasing his grip around Tyler's arm. He glances down at his detective, he notices the dark shades she's wearing, but chooses to overlook it in order to focus back on Tyler, "You can see yourself out."

Tyler turns to leave, "Fine, you don't tell me your updates and I won't tell you mine."

"Withholding information about a crime is-"

"Yeah, yeah," Detective West stops walking and turns back to face the sergeant, "but it can be said vice versa. You're withholding information from me."

Voight thinks back; he thinks back to the last few weeks, the strain and pressure from those higher above him demanding answers from his team. He thinks about the victims, the family members of those victims and the possibility that he's out there currently searching for his next victim. He may not like Tyler, but it's possible Tyler has information that they need.

"Fine," he gives in, taking an angered step back, "You can come back, but the second this case is over, I want you out of here."

He gives Voight a hard pat on the back, "Good to be back."

"Don't screw this up. You won't get another chance," Voight growls, shoving Detective West's hand away from him, "And don't ever touch me."

Hank hated being figuratively stuck between a rock and a hard place. He hated giving in in order to receive information, but this isn't about him, this is about the lives of those victims that ended so soon. He couldn't play selfish and overlook all of that. It wasn't fair to them. Voight averts his eyes over to Burgess; she's sporting the obvious signs of a hangover, "You good?"

Burgess quickly nods, "I'm good. I'm fine," she clenches her forehead, "My head is apparently having a party that I wasn't invited to -so rude."

"Go home," he orders. He isn't angry or disappointed; he's simply sending her home to rest up so she can be of some help tomorrow. She would rest up and start fresh the next day.

"I'll walk you out," Erin offers. She doesn't give Kim much of a choice and once Burgess takes a hold of her keys and jacket, Lindsay's arm is looped through hers and she's tugging her best friend towards the stairs, "Okay, spill. What's been up with you?"

"Ruzek and I broke up," Kim admits, unraveling her arm from Erin's. She didn't want to see the look of pity on her best friend's face, she just wanted to get home, take some pain meds and go back to sleep. It's all she's asking and it isn't much. As they descended down upon the stairs –a fallen and glum mood shared between them, Burgess breaks it, "Don't get mad, but I almost hooked up with West last night too."

Erin abruptly stops walking, "Why would I get mad?" She blinks in shock, "And what," she notices that Burgess is still walking down the stairs, "Wait. Stop walking," she hurries down the stairs as fast as her baby bump would allow; she's holding on to the railing as she rushes towards her friend, "You can't just say something like that and walk away. Now, you and West…"

"Yeah, it wasn't my finest hour," Burgess interrupts, "We were both at Mollys last night and we started talking and then one thing led to another…"

"Wow."

"I'm not a slut."

Erin follows Kim outside of the gate, "I would never call you one. I don't call women sluts for having sex, I'm pretty sure my mother didn't draw me here," she quips while struggling to keep up with Kim's pace, "I'm just surprised, I honestly didn't see that one coming."

"You've always known I thought he was cute, remember at the club?"

Burgess holds the door open for her as Lindsay walks through and responds, "That was months ago and then you started complaining in my ear about how much of an ass he is."

"Yeah, that was before I really got to know him."

"And you know him now?"

"I know enough," Kim bashfully smiles.

Erin takes a hold of her hand, and pulls her to a stop, "I don't want you getting hurt."

"We both needed a rebound; there were no emotions involved."

"I thought Tyler was dating someone?"

"Not technically," Burgess bites her lip and gives Erin a look –a look of serious certainty, "he was pining for a girl who was already taken."

Lindsay immediately picks up on that look, "Me?"

"Yeah you."

"Oh no," Erin shakes her head in obvious disbelief and denial, "He flirts, but he couldn't have actually thought it was going to work, did he?"

"Yeah."

"I thought he found someone new."

"Nope." Kim resumes walking towards her car.

She leaves her friend standing in the middle of the sidewalk –still in shock and still confused. Erin glances down at the noticeable curve of her pregnant belly and finally notices the raindrops fall onto her. Burgess has her jacket over her head as she jogs towards her parked car. Erin picks up her step and tries to catch up to her, "You said you almost hooked up with Tyler," she recalls Burgess earlier words.

"Yeah," Kim sighs, throwing open the car door, "leave it to Ruzek to ruin it."

"What?"

"He walked in…"

"No," Erin gasps.

"Yep."

The drizzling rain starts to pick up, and it's being intentionally overlooked by Erin as she works to get answers and an understanding on exactly how and why Kim and Tyler attempted to hook up. It's weird to her. Just the thought of Burgess and West together didn't seem right. They were nice separately, but she couldn't picture them actually being an item or pursing a serious relationship with one another. Erin snaps back into reality when Burgess rolls down her window, "The rain is picking up. Get back in the building before you get sick. Call me later."

Erin chimes back into reality –she feels the sky open up more and release its downpour. Without saying goodbye or waving, she scurries off back into the building. She couldn't afford getting sick; she had a baby and a case to think about. The team is sitting behind their desks with the exception of Voight and Detective West –they're both leant against Kim's empty desk. They're talking with him, filling him in on their current findings in the case. Voight is the first to speak –his words giving a silent okay for the rest of the team to chime in, "A few weeks ago Erin was sent a locket of hair, we sent it to forensics and found out it was hair from extensions, but traces of Claire's real hair and blood are in it."

Tyler's brows furrow, "I thought the autopsy report said all of her hair pulled from her scalp was real." He turns to face the sergeant.

"It was," Hank nodded, "Hair extensions don't grow from the scalp." Voight sees the confusion remain on Tyler's face –he's not understanding, "In the autopsy report, the hair that was scalped out was all hers; it didn't take into account that she could have added hair to it."

Olinsky reiterated, "Claire had extensions in her hair and they, along with her real hair, were scalped off."

"So most of the women had some type of plastic surgery," Tyler stated, biting down upon his lower lip, "and if it wasn't surgery it was some type of thing added to enhance beauty."

"Claire had hair extensions, Michelle had botox, Lucy had teeth implants, and Amanda had breast implants," Dawson listed the known facts of each of their victims.

Voight stands up straight from his leant position against Burgess' desk; arms are crossed over his chest as he looks to Detective West with a tilted head, "All we're left trying to connect is Trent, Shelby and Linda."

"And that's why I'm back," Tyler confidently asserts, earning the attention of each remaining team member.

It was the truth. That's exactly why he's back. He's back to fill them in on what he knows and help them the remainder of the way. They've come a long way in four months, but they're not at the place Voight really wants to be. He has people over him demanding answers and for him to wrap this case up. He needed it to be solved before it went cold and he was forced to close. If adding Tyler back to the team would do that, then he had to suck it up and allow it.

"What do you have to add?" the sergeant asks, his arms remained crossed over his chest.

"It's about Shelby; she had surgery, and guess what it was on?"

"Her nose?"

"Bingo," Tyler points towards Dawson to signify his correct answer, "She got a nose job done."

"How do you know this?"

He turns to Halstead in order to answer his question, "I spoke with her mother. I outright asked her did Shelby have any plastic surgery done around the time of her death. The Indianapolis police didn't know about that connection so they had no reason to ask it, and Shelby's mom didn't think it was worth mentioning," he starts pacing the floor –it's his normal routine, "I learned that at her job a suspect had broken her nose sometime before she met the perpetrator and got surgery on it the day after she met him. Shelby got nose surgery."

"That's five of the seven victims; that's more than half, this definitely has to be our connection." Atwater commented, sounding hopeful.

Voight nods at Atwater's statement, and the positivity within it, but he hated the fact that he had to be the one to give the reminder of bad news, be the one to tell them the downsides to what they don't know. Hank drops his arms and eyes Atwater, "We're still clueless about Trent and Linda's death, and we don't have a guaranteed answer as to why Michelle's tongue was taken as well." He turns back to face the rest of his team, "We speculate it's because of alcohol, but could there have been something else, maybe a piercing?"

Ruzek answers, "We asked her mother that –no piercing."

"Damn it!"

The team jumps and Tyler is the only one courageous enough to approach him, "Sergeant, we're going to catch this guy."

"When?" Hank's head whips into the direction of the new detective, "It's been a little over four months and we don't even have a suspect yet."

"We can't give up. Otherwise, he'll win and that's the last thing we want, right?" Tyler asserted, quickening his pace up and down the aisle, "He's waiting to be caught; sometimes killers kill in hopes of being captured."

"What kind of killer is that?"

His head whips to look in Ruzek's direction, "One who is tired of doing it. One who wants to stop. One who can't stop."

"You seem to know a lot about this," Voight squints.

"That's my years of experience on the job. In my district, we run across a lot of wackos and we run across a lot of smart guys, sometime the two are the same."

Voight tucks his hands into his pockets; his teeth are biting down against his bottom lip. His eyes are scanning the room before settling upon the whiteboard –the pictures of the victims are hard reminders of their jobs and the lack of progress they've made in solving the case. He grunts and shakes his head seconds afterwards, "I'm going to reach out to Trent's ex-wife and see if she knows of him getting any work done to his body," Hank informs, "Mouse and Atwater are going to continue combing through the footage. We got pass the first and second victims and neither really gave us anything. I need for Olinsky to reach out to Linda's husband, see if her fingers have any significance, there's a reason he took them."

"What about the rest of us?"

He turns around to answer Ruzek's question, "We have a motive, and now find us a suspect." Voight disappears back into his office; the slamming of his door shows the obvious frustration and anger he feels towards this case. The door is shut tight just as Erin reaches the top stair. She exhaustively drags her feet towards her desk chair and flops down, releasing a yawn and a loud sigh of fatigue and absolute confusion –due to the new revelation of Kim and Tyler. She's a little out of breath from the outside and inside stair climbing, but after she gets off her feet for a little bit, that feeling of exhaustion would soon pass like every other mood and symptom.

Erin rests her arms upon the armrest, leans her head back and closes her eyes. She hears the movement of her team around her as they scamper about to investigate. Once she gets herself together, she has every intention of diving back into this case, especially since Burgess is gone for the day. She was needed. She can rest when she's back home. And with that thought in mind, Lindsay reopens her eyes to see Jay watching her, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Erin ran a hand through her hair, droplets of rain water fall, "If there was something wrong with the baby, I'll let you know." She shivers.

He obviously notices, "Erin, you're shivering."

"So, what did I miss while I was gone?" She attempts to steer the conversation back onto work, back onto the important matter at hand. She's cold temporarily, but once her damp hair and shirt dries, then she'll be fine.

"You didn't have to walk Burgess to her car," Jay doesn't drop it though; instead, he gets up and walks over, "It's raining out there."

"I was only out there for a few minutes," she annoyingly remarked.

Jay lowers his voice, speaking sternly and quietly so only she can hear, "Why are you upset? You don't get to be upset."

"I don't have a right to be upset?"

"I apologized."

"So did I."

The team is too absorbed in their work-related duties that they honestly didn't hear or weren't paying attention to two of the unit's detectives brewing argument. And honestly, if they were being truthful, it was nothing new or worthy to be eavesdropped over. It was getting old. They argued like an old married couple, and to be honest, they all saw why Voight didn't want any in house romances. It was too late to do anything about Halstead and Lindsay, but for the rest of the team, more specifically Ruzek and Burgess, they were warned to keep their boyfriend-girlfriend problems outside of work.

Jay stoops low in front of his wife, his hands wrapped around the armrests of her desk chair. He pulls it closer to him, his back still hunched over as he speaks, "I said something that I instantly regretted. You consistently did stuff that you now, all of a sudden, regret. It's easy to forget what someone said, but it's more complicated to forget what they did."

She averts her eyes to his, staring into his orbs with just as much as passion as her words are filled with, "That may be true; I may eventually forget what you said, but I'll always remember how you made me feel."

"Erin-"

"Jay, I need an update on the case."

"The case can wait," he sighs, releasing the arms of her chair and standing upright, "I'm going to make you some tea to warm you up."

Before she can protest or call him back to finish their dispute, Jay already disappeared into the breakroom. Her eyes remain focused on the breakroom; the door is cracked and even though she is unable to see her husband, she knows he's in there, quickly and quietly making her a cup of tea. She's so distracted and the thought of Jay making her a cup of tea pulls a smile onto her face. He was her baby's dad. She couldn't have had a better man be the father of her baby. His actions may be more out of concern for the baby instead of her, but it shows he cares about their child. It shows that he's adapting well to her unexpected pregnancy news. Her stubbornness –and his as well- may prevent them from currently having a civil conversation, but it's nice to know that it doesn't stop him from worrying about his kid or putting the health of her pregnancy above his pride. Erin leans back in her seat, sets her hands comfortably against her tummy and smiles. They'll get through this; they'll get through this like they got through everything else.

"Somebody rang for a brief update," Tyler announced, sliding up to her dance, "who better to give the update than the person who brought the update?" Erin doesn't look interested; however, her disinterest doesn't prevent her from listening. In order to do her job, she has to listen and be aware of all the new information, and once Tyler wrapped up the last bit of his brief update, she smiled and nodded for him to walk away. She remained staring off into the direction Jay disappeared into; her attention unfocused on everything else as she waited.

Tyler doesn't listen. His feet stay planted on the ground as he waves his hand in front of her face, "Earth to Erin…" he snaps his fingers in front of her face; she immediately blinks out of her reverie, "Penny for your thoughts…"

She acknowledges his hand waving in her face and smacks it away, "Sometimes I wish I can just disappear and go to a place where nothing can go wrong in life." Erin's eyes avert to meet his.

"There is a place for that," Tyler sits against the edge of her desk.

"Yeah," Erin rolls her eyes, choosing to engage in this pointless chat, "What's it called?"

"…Heaven."

Before she could respond Jay approaches her desk, "Sorry to interrupt, here you go."

He sets her tea down and the aroma of the herbal tea fills her nose, "Thank you," she thankfully sighs, clasping her hands around the mug, "it smells divine." Jay doesn't respond; he gives her the same silent treatment he gave her in the car ride over. She doesn't miss the look he cast in Tyler's direction before walking back to his desk. She catches it all –she sees the way he avoids looking her way with Tyler sitting against her desk, she sees the way Tyler smugly glances back and forth between her and Jay. He's supposed to be wooing Burgess, not her. He's supposed to be back at his district, not hers. She's supposed to be mending her breaking marriage and reconciling with her husband. And because she saw all of that, she immediately gets up from her seat –her hot tea sitting in the center of her desk, forgotten.

Lindsay beats a short knock against Hank's office door. She doesn't stand by and wait to be invited in and instead chooses to open the door and walk inside. She leans her back against the door once she pushes it shut; her arms resting behind her leant position, and once her mouth opens to prepare to speak, Voight holds up a finger, signaling for her to hold on, "Yes, thank you," Hank nods, smiling glumly as he speaks to Trent's ex-wife, "And once again, I am sorry for your loss. I'll call you if I have any more questions." He hangs up, "Trent had no plastic surgery done. He had no alterations done to his body, at least not around the time of his death."

Erin shakes her head –overlooking his comment and getting straight to the point, "I don't want Tyler back on the case with us." Her eyes brim with redness; they're dry and soon enough, they'll eventually start to burn if her prescription eye drops aren't added.

"What?" Voight's curiosity is immediately piqued as he points towards the empty chair, hinting for her to take a seat, "Weeks ago you were his number one campaigner to get him back."

She rushes to the chair to sit down, "I know that, and even though Jay and I aren't exactly on good speaking terms, it's a new start. It's something we're going to work though and I don't want Tyler to ruin that." Her hands fumble with one another against her lap.

"What about the women who were killed?" Voight responds, using her previous argument against her, "They don't deserve to take a backseat to your marriage."

Lindsay runs her hands over her face, rubbing against the now forming stress lines creased into her forehead, "I'm confused. I don't understand. I thought you would be quick to agree." She pulls her hands away and looks at him with absolute bafflement.

"And normally," Voight pushes his hands against his desk to stand, "I would, but Tyler is finally finding out answers, he's finally doing what he's supposed to be doing; we need him right now."

"At the expense of my marriage?" She rubs her eyes to rid herself of the irritation.

"I'm going to be straight with you kid," Hank starts off, walking around his desk in order to lean against it in front of her, "you and Jay had problems long before Tyler came into the picture, if you didn't, then Tyler wouldn't be a problem right now. He wouldn't be a threat."

"He's not a threat to-"

"Let me finish," Hank interrupted, before proceeding to conclude his earlier statement, "getting rid of Tyler won't magically fix your marriage. And keeping Tyler here will test it, but it'll test it to the point where you and Jay can no longer pretend there isn't a problem. You both need to figure this out; work it all out. You deserve it. Jay deserves it. And that baby," he points towards her stomach, "definitely deserves it. Tyler will only be a problem if you continue to let him be. I'll give him a warning. I'll tell him to steer clear of you while working this case, but Erin, if anything else happens between you two, it's because you let it. It's not because he's working this case. It's not because you're seeing him every day. It's because you gave up on your marriage and gave in to the walking, talking form of temptation." He leans forward to pat his hand gently against her cheek, "Now I'm going to give you an important task…"

"Anything, as long as it's far from Tyler."

"I want you and Halstead to take the rest of the day off."

She jumps to her feet, "Are you seriously benching us?"

"No."

"Well it sounds like you are," she angrily crosses her arms over her chest, "you need all hands on deck. You already sent Burgess home for the day. The higher ups are hounding for you to close this case, benching us now isn't a good idea Hank!"

"You're not benched," Voight argued, standing upright from his leant position, "I'm sending you both home –just for the rest of the day might I add- to talk all this mess out. You both need to figure this out, at least enough so it's not coming into work with you two. I had a strict rule against in-house romances for a reason. You and Jay's arguing is affecting both of your work and is distracting my other detectives, and like you said, the higher ups are hounding me and I need answers…like yesterday," his arm is thrown over her shoulders as he walks her to his office door, "Go home kid. Talk to your husband. I want you to rest up and come back bright and early tomorrow morning."

And with his point made, she clears her throat and walks out of his office. No further argument was made because after all is said and done, she answers to him. He was her boss. She had to follow his orders. And this was his order. As she summarizes to Jay the order given out, he doesn't argue. He simply lifts his jacket and waits near Erin's desk as she slowly grabs her things. Her jacket is on, her purse is in hand, and before departing, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her eye drops. No one bats an eye. No one looks twice in her direction –but Tyler- as she squirts two drops into each eye. She rapidly blinks. She smiles once the irritation starts to die down. Tyler is caught staring, his mouth agape in shock, "It's temporary," he hears her words, but he's still dazed out in bewilderment; it caught him completely off guard. Erin's brows crease as she pockets her eye drops, "You ready Jay?" Without a word he follows her out of the bullpen, leaving Tyler standing in front of her desk, mouth still wide open and eyes still enlarged. Her full cup of tea is left and before he is able to grab it, he hears the sergeant shout out his name. He didn't sound happy. Tyler swallows his pride, pushes his arrogance to the side and trudges along into Voight's office.

The rain has stopped by the time they left. It's foggy now and a little humid. She gets into the car, knowing that one of them will have to be the first to speak. It's her fault they're here; it's her fault they're in this situation. Erin knows it's her who will have to speak first, she just only hoped that he wouldn't ignore her, he'll actually listen and respond. She buckles the seatbelt over her stomach and lap, "Voight sent us home because of how we're acting."

"How we're acting?"

She sighs in relief when he does respond, "We're either arguing or giving each other the silent treatment. He says it's affecting our work," she feels Jay's eyes on her, "He wants us to talk it out." He turns away, focusing on the road as he pulls out of their parking spot.

"I already apologized. You didn't accept it." He shrugs it off nonchalantly.

"Saying you're sorry doesn't magically erase what you said. It doesn't take away the damage that was already done."

"Damage already done?" Are you seriously about to lecture me on damages already done?" Jay shouts, struggling to maintain the speed limit as his anger desperately urges for his foot to press down onto the gas, "How about the damage you did by kissing Tyler?"

"I didn't kiss him! He kissed me!"

"Same thing!"

"What do you want from me? No matter how much I desperately want to, I can't go back. I can't take it all back," her voice breaks; it pleads with him for an answer. Whatever he wants from her, she'll do it; she'll do it if it means they can put this all behind them. As much give as the seatbelt gave, she pulls it to loosen it up from across her chest so she's able to turn to face him, "Yes, I wish I told you about the flowers. Yes, I should have told you about the dinner he bought and the ride home he gave me. Yes I should have done more to stop him from flirting! Yes, he should have never felt comfortable enough to kiss me –a married woman! No, I shouldn't have stayed the night in his place. And no, I shouldn't have told him about the pregnancy before you."

"Wait." He abruptly presses down onto the brake in hopes of not running the stop sign, "You told him you were pregnant before you told me."

She nods, staring down at her lap and purposely avoiding eye contact, "I did…and I'm telling you because I want to lay it all out in the open Jay! I don't want to fight anymore! I'm tired of arguing!" She looks up at him; her eyes meet his and they're pleading with him.

"You told him about my baby before you told me." Jay says it again. He says it to let it settle. He says it to understand and to try and attempt to see her reasoning for it, however, he couldn't. He didn't see why she told him about his kid before he even had the luxury of knowing.

"It wasn't planned or anything," Erin defended, reaching over the armrest to grab his hand; he pulls it away, "He offered to buy me a drink and that's why I turned it down."

"Well you shouldn't have been in the bar in the first place."

"I was giving you the space you asked for. Burgess didn't answer her phone. I had nowhere to go but Molly's."

"You could have gone to Voight's or you could have come home."

"You wanted space!"

"That didn't mean stay out of the house we BOTH pay the bills on! That simply meant I'll be in one room and you be in another! It didn't mean shack up with your boyfriend!"

"You're right and I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"

Jay notices how Erin's hands cradle her stomach to find comfort. It has become a habit now that everyone knows she's pregnant and won't question her on it. It has become her security. No matter how alone she feels sometimes, she knows that with this baby inside of her, she's never truly alone. Her cradling her stomach makes him realize that he's never had the chance. He's never rubbed it, cradled it or even touched it. Since he found out, they haven't been on speaking terms and he honestly didn't think it would be appropriate for him to act upon his dire need to reach out and touch it. She may be pregnant with his baby but it's still her body. Her arms wrapped around her protruding belly, her eyes are closed and because of what he's seeing, his shoulders loosen up, they relax and he nods to accept her apology, "You're sorry," he repeats it, and she looks up, knowing that he has finally accepted it, "Did he touch it?"

"Touch what?" She follows his eyes and gets an answer before he even responds.

"Your stomach Erin…Did he touch your stomach?"

She shakes her head, "No, of course not"

"Good."

"What?"

"I said good; I don't want him anywhere near my baby."

"He won't be," Erin assures; at this point she'll agree to anything if it means they can stop arguing, it's taxing on her body and her main focus shouldn't be where she and her husband stand, it should this baby and this case.

"And I'm sorry for not trusting you."

The mood is definitely lighter; they're no longer arguing to over shout the other, they're talking like adults and they're truly hearing each other, "I didn't really give you a reason to trust me."

"I still shouldn't have questioned whether this baby is mine, especially with the sole intent of hurting you. I know you. I know you would never break our vows. I know you would never hurt me like that."

"I'm sorry for giving you reasons not to believe that."

"Why didn't you tell me though?"

His question breaks her heart. It pleads with her for the truth. He wants to know what's really been bothering her. Jay doesn't want her to close herself off and hide herself behind the impenetrable armor like she usually does. He wants her to follow through on her earlier words to be open and honest with him. And when she swallows her nerves, she turns to look at him; he could automatically see the hesitance in her eyes and the apprehension in her facial expression, "I don't know." Jay immediately feels defeated when he assumes she's taking the easy way out, but when he sees the calculation in her eyes, the thought into trying to form her words, he knows she isn't done talking. Erin licks her lips to loosen the hardened frown that seemed to have implanted itself, "Maybe…maybe," she stumbles over her words. This isn't like her. She's normally confident and self-aware, but Jay was always able to break the shell that she seemed so comfortable with hiding behind. Erin brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "maybe it was because I'm scared," she finds the words, "I feel like everything in my life is moving so fast. We moved in together pretty quickly, we got married in a rush and now we're having a baby without even discussing whether or not we want kids and when the right time to have them would be," she sniffs, and wipes beneath her eye, "I'm torn Jay. Seeing that ultrasound picture pulled at my heart strings, but I also feel like having a kid will tie me down," she feels her shoulders start to relax; the more she shares with him, the better she finds herself feeling, "And we've only known Tyler for about four months and sometimes I feel like he's the only person who doesn't get mad at me or judge me. Sometimes it's easier talking to a stranger than it is a friend or a loved one."

"You could've just talked to me."

"You were busy. I didn't want to bother you."

He looks at her, "What?"

"We were having problems before Tyler came into the picture. I think the Tyler issues just helped to reveal those problems more."

"I thought we were fine."

The truth is coming out. Her truth in all of this –her feelings, her thoughts, and her actions- is all coming out. She unbuckles her seatbelt when Halstead parks the car in front of their home, "Your brother had been going through a rough patch with Natalie."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"You were helping him. You were there for him. And then after you got him back on his feet, you and your dad attempted to reconnect, but that obviously didn't work out and then Ruzek got you roped into his drama. And I really love that about you. I love that you want to help and be there for everyone."

"…but I wasn't there for you."

It clicks. Jay had been so focused on his relationships with everyone else that he stopped paying attention to his relationship with his wife. From work to Will to their dad to Ruzek, he had been stretched thin and didn't have the time for her. She would make dinner and by the time he got home, he had already eaten or was too tired to sit, catch up and eat. She would schedule a date night and he would cancel because other plans came up. It was always something. After six years of marital bliss, they were no longer in the honeymoon phase. Their union required work. Marriage wasn't just living and loving your spouse every day. It required much more than that and he wasn't doing his fair share of it. Erin recognizes the look on Jay's face, she has carried that look for the last few weeks; it's blame.

"Jay, you were…let's just not talk about this. It's nothing. It's not important anymore." She gave him the truth, it was how she felt and no one could tell her otherwise, but she didn't tell him so his feelings would get hurt or for him to take responsibility for their current marital issues, she told him so they can start working past it.

"I guess these last few months, and the months before Tyler came into the picture, I got a little distracted."

"It's not your fault; don't blame yourself," she asserts, taking another shot at grabbing his hand –this time he accepts it, "You were just being a good brother, son and friend."

"…yeah, but at the expense of being a lousy husband," he pulls his hand out of hers and steps out of the car. He slams the door behind him and begins walking up the remainder of the driveway.

"No, you're far from lousy!" As fast as her growing belly would allow, she steps out of the vehicle, shuts the door behind her and begins to scamper up the driveway, "Jay!"

He stops walking, "I spent the night over Will's apartment most days out of the week," he turns to face her as she approaches him, "You were feeling lonely. You were starting to resent me."

"I didn't resent you."

"When it didn't work out with my dad I turned to Will, I stayed there for a bit and I didn't even think about how that would make you feel."

"I get it Jay. Now, I get it. You both grew up with that man. He'll understand it more than I will. He's your brother."

"And you're my wife. I shouldn't have shut you out," he walked closer up to her and grabbed her hand, "And then Ruzek, his constant break up and make up with Burgess was just…stressing. I got so distracted by their mess, I just…" his free hand cups her face, "Er, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she emotionally admits, her face sighing and finding comfort in his opened palm, "I should have said something. I just thought if I pretended that it didn't bother me then it wouldn't. You were preoccupied and I kept telling myself that I shouldn't be upset about it. I kept telling myself I was being selfish. I didn't think I had a right to feel that way. I think I got mad and instead of turning to you for attention, I started to enjoy getting it from Tyler. I felt like I was second to everyone in your life and a part of me feels like I tried to make you feel the same way when it came to Tyler...the difference is, Tyler isn't family or a friend. He's a coworker with a crush."

"I closed myself off from you and started drawing back," it's like they're competing; they're trying to convince the other that they're more responsible. Jay's other hand cups the other side of her face, "I saw how Will and Natalie, my dad and my mom before she died and then Ruzek and Burgess' relationships were doing and I got scared that we were going to end up like that. We both started pulling away. I guess my fear pushed you away."

"It takes work to be in a marriage."

"I never knew that bothered you though."

She pulls her face out of his hold, "You know I'm not the one to admit stuff like that."

"We shouldn't keep anything to ourselves Erin," Halstead declared, holding eye contact to ensure how serious he is about the statement he made, "From this point on, we're telling each other everything no matter how we think it's going to make the other feel."

"I like that idea."

"So it's a deal," he extends his hand.

She shakes it, "It's a deal."

With their hands intertwined, they walk hand in hand up the remainder of the driveway. He feels much better. She feels slightly better. Before he can insert the key into the lock, she tugs upon his hand, "Jay," he turns to meet her eyes, "I want us to go to counseling."

Halstead resumes unlocking the door, "Is that really necessary?"

"I feel like it's worth a shot. We owe it to us, our marriage and this baby." She follows him into the house. The door is shut and locked behind her.

"Okay, tell me when and where and I'll be there."

"Thank you."

Erin hears Jay set the keys onto the side table and she quietly walks down the hallway. Her eyes scan the pictures hanging on the walls and she realizes that pretty soon she'll be adding new photos –photos of the baby. Lindsay stops in front of their wedding photo; they're smiling, they're so happy and in love. She lifts the photo off the wall, "What has happened to us?" She feels him look at the photo from over her shoulder, "We were the perfect couple."

"There's no such thing as perfection," he responds, taking a hold of the framed picture to get a better look at it.

Erin smiles, "Now you're sounding like me."

"But I know what you mean…" He hangs the photo back onto the hook, "Every couple reaches a rough patch in their marriage."

She turns to face him, discovering that he's standing closer than he's been in months, "We've only been married six years."

"This wasn't our first fight."

"It was our first big fight."

"And it probably won't be our last," he remarks, wrapping his hands gently around her upper arms, "Mr. Foster told me to not let the petty arguments get in between our marriage."

"This argument wasn't petty. You had every right to be upset."

"We should have went about it a different way."

He was right and instead of using her own hand to wipe her fallen tears away, she feels him do it; she feels him wipe each tear off her face, "I am so sorry Jay." She leans her forehead against the center of his muscular chest.

"I'm sorry too Erin."

Lindsay hesitated but then desperately wrapped her arms around him, "I need a hug," she buries her face into his shirt, "I need one of those hold and squeeze me tight, don't let go and make me smile kind of hug." He kissed the top of her head and gave in to her request.

Jay hugged her; he hugged her hard, protectively and as tight as he could without hurting her. He missed hugging her. He missed kissing her. He missed all of this. Halstead closes his eyes and pulls her in even more, he could smell the scent of her hair; he missed that too. Jay pressed another kiss against the side of her head, his nose touched her temple and he stayed like that, "I love you," his lips mumbled against the side of her face.

"I love you too."

"Us not speaking to each other," he only pulls his lips away to quickly say his next point, "that killed me. Let's not do that again…ever."

"Agreed," her voice is muffled due to her face buried into the fabric of his shirt. She's clenching onto it for dear life. A part of her feels that if she lets go, she'll wake up and find that this was all just a dream.

"I missed sleeping beside you," at his words, she snuggled further into his chest. Since they've been arguing or giving each other the silent treatment, they found it easier and more comfortable sleeping in different rooms. She feels his shirt absorb her tears and she adjusts her head so her voice isn't as muffled. She's smiling, genuinely beaming from ear to ear. His thumb rises to brush a fallen tear from her cheek, "Can we start over?"

Her head moves against his chest as she nods, "I would really like that."

"Good," he tightens his arms around her, "we've officially started over."

"Jay, there's something I should tell you…" he's nervous at her words, but the smile on her face eases his concern, "I'm pregnant."

He waits a second, and then responds, "And I'm happy."

Halstead takes his hands and gently grasps the sides of her face; he pulls her back and leans forward to press his lips against hers. They're both smiling into the kiss, occasional tears fall and mix together. His hands slide down her face and soon enough find comfort cradling and resting upon her baby bump. His face draws back, ending the kiss, but his hands remain. He's beaming; a grin stretched a mile wide as he stares at his own large hands settled upon her stomach. Erin sees the sparkle in his eye and she watches the smile on his face continue to stretch. He stoops down onto his knees and embraces in the moment he's been waiting for; his hands are on her stomach and without pulling them away, he wraps them fully around her waist and hugs her tight –his head rested against the hard frame of her protruding stomach, and they stay like that. They're content.


	10. Psychopath

For one split second at work, Erin is able to focus in on her pregnancy. She's able to actually be reminded of the baby growing inside of her. She's able to embrace and enjoy the pregnancy glow that she has heard about plenty of times, from a variety of people –both with kids and without. The advice she was given and the stories that have been told to her about the second trimester were all true. She has yet to hear of one that hasn't happened. The second trimester has been a breeze. At twenty weeks –a total of five months- pregnant there is absolutely no hiding her belly. It's noticeable. Any officers, who didn't know, definitely know now. Her appetite has increased and she's starting to miss the comfort of her bed. If she's not constantly occupied, she finds herself thinking about the baby or the fact that her bed is waiting for her at home. It's empty and every morning when she gets out, she sometimes pictures it calling for her to come back. And the fact that they've all been here for hours has her missing it even more; she's sitting in the bullpen, shoes completely kicked off her feet and she's nibbling on homemade trail mix.

Jay is rubbing on the back of his neck, feeling a crook develop within it from looking down at the files in front of him for so long. Mouse finds himself unintentionally dozing in and out of sleep; a few weeks ago he found Claire Montgomery in the surveillance footage, but he didn't see her talking with any men, and now, weeks later, he's currently searching for their third victim, Linda Foster. Erin had found herself regularly taking breaks throughout her work day. Making a baby is exhausting and since no one in the room has ever been pregnant, she uses that to her advantage in needing longer breaks every few hours. Erin hears her phone buzz against the corner of her desk and as she answers the unknown number, "Hello," there's an immediate click on the other end. They hung up. She shrugs it off; she didn't have the number in her phone so the person obviously dialed the wrong digits. A second thought isn't given, especially after Voight's office door opens and Commander Crowley storms out.

The last few weeks, she had been pressuring them for results, for answers, for something to tell the public. It had been months since they were handed this case and she assumed that if she took it from a different division and gave it to the Intelligence unit, they would have answers or an arrest by this point. However, it was easier said than done. Voight had been in his officer for the last two hours with Crowley explaining how far they've come in the case and also clarifying why it's taking so long for them to close this case. There hasn't been a killing in months –which is great- however, it leaves them at a dead end. They have a motive. They have a hunting ground location –the club. They have everything, but a suspect. And that frustrates the commander; it frustrates her to the point in causing her to storm out of his office and slamming the door behind her. The entire team jumps, they're completely caught off guard when the door loudly closes. Tyler is back and he immediately steps to the side, to allow the commander to storm pass him and down the stairs. In one hand he has a box of donuts and in the second, he has a box of to-go coffee, "What's her problem?"

No one answers; they're all too focused on the donuts Tyler bought for all of them. It's a peace offering. Since his return, he had been trying to make up for his unprofessionalism. Since her second trimester, Erin felt like the senses in her nose has increased; it's less sensitive than her first trimester, but it's more alert than her pre-pregnancy body. She's eager. She's hungry. The trail mix was only a temporary substitute to keep the growl off her belly. She was trying to save her appetite for dinner tonight, but the longer they spent in the office, the more she was willing to give up and just eat now and a little later. Lindsay uses the edge of her desk to hastily push herself to her feet; it was obviously a little too fast, as she gets a little dazed from the rapid and rash movement. She grabs her head as Jay's voice sounds, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she uses the back of her hands to rub her eyes; they're starting to burn, "I think I just stood up a little too fast." Jay had set Erin up a new doctor's appointment for later this week to see if she can increase the strength and dosage of her eye drop prescription. Being mindful of her pregnancy, the doctor didn't want to give her the required eye drops and instead chose to give her a lighter prescription, but it was taking absolutely too long to fix whatever the hell is wrong with her eyes. And she's only able to use her eye drops when her contacts aren't in her eyes; so in the morning and at night are her only opportunities for immediate relief.

"I'll bring you over a donut."

She wipes her eyes again and retakes her seat, "Two."

"I'll bring you over two donuts," Jay laughs as he walks over towards the opened box of desserts. He briefly scans the assortment of donuts in search of her favorite.

Since she and Jay are in the process of working things out by talking and going to counseling, their marriage counselor recommended for her to start allowing him to help; she doesn't have to do everything. If he wants to do something for her, she should let him, especially in her current state. As Erin waits patiently for her donuts, she watches Tyler and Kim interact; it's interesting and a little distracting. She's still surprised that they're even hanging out outside of work, in a strictly platonic friendship type of way. He's currently nibbling on his donut while leant against Kim's desk; they're chatting and laughing while enjoying their short break to eat donuts and drink coffee. Ruzek is glaring, but neither notice nor care. Erin's watching, but she's more confused than anything. Since Tyler came back, he had been giving her the silent treatment, and while she didn't mind personally, when it came to work, it got irritating. He avoided her at all costs. And once again, she didn't mind, but it was frustrating when she needed to ask him something work related or associated with the case. They're both adults. A friendship didn't work out, but they still had to work together; he should be able to put aside his pride to have an adult conversation about their case.

Her eyes drift from Kim and Tyler and over towards the whiteboard. Those pictures have been hanging for months. She'll be happy when they finally catch this guy, remove those pictures from the board and put this case behind them. It's honestly taxing. This case was stressful before she was pregnant and now that in around four months she'll be having a baby, Lindsay felt rushed –she wanted this case to be closed before this baby came. She wanted to be able to enjoy maternity leave without stressing about what this maniac will do next. Erin's attention –her dazed out focus- is snapped back to the current matter at hand as Jay approaches her, holding two donuts in one napkin, "Here you go…" he extends the covered donuts, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sitting here, twiddling my thumbs, while waiting for something to happen," she answers, opening the napkin to take a bite of the heavenly tasting dessert.

He sits at the corner of her desk, "I feel you."

"We took for granted those days where the biggest decision we ever had to make was choosing which crayon color we wanted to use," she breaks off a smaller piece of the donut as Jay pulls her desk chair towards him.

"We'll get to live through those days again…" Jay replies, eyes falling to her protruding belly, "eventually."

"I'm looking forward to it."

He smiles, "Me too," Jay leans forward and gently squeezes her shoulder; eyes looking into eyes as his hand drifts down her arm to eventually rest upon her stomach. Every chance he gets, Jay touches her stomach. It's comforting. It's soothing to the both of them. He rubs it.

His hand glides across her swollen stomach until they're interrupted. Platt has announced her presence, earning everyone's undivided attention as she delivers a package to Kim. It's a small brown box. It's taped shut. And when Burgess catches the box that Trudy tosses her way, the whole team shifts their attention towards Kim, "Our lady detective here has a package," Platt joked, crossing her arms against her white-button up work shirt, "Seems she may have a secret admirer because Burgess here never gets packages."

"I do too," Kim argued, until she noticed the look Platt tossed her way, "okay fine, I normally don't, but that's because my last boyfriend never sent me anything." Ruzek lowers his head and purposely turns in the direction of Voight's office as their sergeant walks out.

Erin rises to her feet –using her husband's arm to support herself until balance was established. She releases his arm and walks over to Kim's desk; her best friend offered her the seat and she gratefully and thankfully accepted it as Burgess stood to open up the box. Inside was a ring –it's for a piercing. Also, there's a folded picture that Burgess pulls out. She opens it and seconds afterwards, she drops it. It falls to the top of her lap, forcing Erin to swiftly pick it up before anyone had the chance to do so before her.

"What is it?" Ruzek questions after noticing the panicked look on Kim's face.

Erin opens the photo, "Platt, who delivered this?" Lindsay turns the picture towards the team; it's a photo of Michelle –their first Chicago victim- she's posing with her friend and their sticking their tongues out of their mouths while holding up two peace signs. Implanted into her tongue is a ring, the same tongue ring located within the small box sent to Burgess.

"I don't know who delivered it. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, it was on the front desk with Kim's name written on it," Sergeant Platt explained, grabbing the photo, "Hand me the box, I'll rush it to evidence. Hopefully it's not too contaminated."

"Find out if that ring actually belonged to Michelle or if it's a lookalike," Voight approached, earning a head nod from Platt as she disappeared with another possible piece of evidence.

Burgess shudders; she's absolutely grossed out. She closes her eyes to wipe the mental image of the ring –the ring that was once pierced through Michelle's tongue- it's sickening. He removed her tongue and then took the ring out of it to send to her. She's creeped out. Erin looks to Ruzek; the look on her face is pressuring him to step up, comfort her. It's his chance to win her back. Everyone can see he's obviously not over her. She would rather have Ruzek with Kim than for her to be with Tyler. However, unfortunately, Tyler approaches Kim first; his hand rubbing against her back, his other arm pulling her into a hug, "Try not to think about it."

"How can I not think about that?" Kim exclaims, pulling herself from Tyler's arms, "The killer obviously sent that tongue ring to me! That tongue ring belongs to a dead girl! I…I was sent a dead girl's tongue ring…that's just," she cries out, shuddering in disgust, "that's gross!"

Adam's reply is laced with confusion, "I thought her mother said she didn't have a piercing…"

"Well her mother obviously didn't know," Burgess retorts.

"Kim," Tyler started, but the wave of her hand cuts him off.

"I'll be fine. I just…I just need a minute."

Erin stands up to offer Burgess her seat back to which she happily accepts. She flops down into the seat in shock. Her mouth agape and her eyes wide open as the image of Michelle sticking out her tongue brandishing a shiny tongue ring will always be implanted into her memory. She needed a distraction. She needed to think of something else.

"Guys…" they all look up at the sound of Dawson's voice. He's standing behind his desk, leant over and typing into his computer.

Voight walks over, "What is it?"

"I…I think I found something."

Hank leans over to see what Antonio is reading on his computer screen, "I have no idea what I'm looking at. I need you to spit it out."

"Voight, remember when you told us to look into the victims' health records a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah."

"And it took some time for the families to give their consent for the records to be released to us?"

"Yeah."

Antonio's eyes look up to meet the eyes of his boss, "I just got through Linda's health records."

"And what was in it?"

Dawson turns the screen to face the rest of the team, "She had surgery," there's a medical report on the screen, and Antonio scrolls downwards towards the x-ray, "She has an accident report. A few days before she died, she got into a minor car accident. The other driver walked away completely fine, but Linda, a few tendons in her fingers were ruptured," he points at the small breaks in her fingers –most likely caused by the airbags, "She had surgery to repair it."

Olinsky adds, "And it was no way the medical examiner could have known because he cut off all her fingers." It was completely overlooked by all of them.

"Do you know what this means?" Hank asks, turning to face the rest of his team.

"No."

"No idea."

"No clue."

Atwater, Halstead and Ruzek's comments were all spoken in unison as they looked away from the x-ray. Their eyes meet Voight's relaxed expression as he answers, "It connects all of the female victims. They've all either had surgery done to their bodies or some type of alteration, whether it's a piercing or hair extensions. Something to their bodies changed and therefore their relationship with the perpetrator changed."

To think of that, it's creepy. It's sick. It's nerve-wrecking. It's bad luck. How can one possibly avoid that? How do you do something completely normal for it to lead to a sicko using that as a motive for your death? There are women out there every day who have surgery, tattoos, piercings, extensions…there are so many other potential victims for the perpetrator to make his choosing. Burgess is watching as Olinsky writes tongue ring near Michelle's name on the whiteboard and eventually tendon surgery near Linda's name. They're all connected now. It's a far stretch, but it's a connection nonetheless. However, Kim's eyes drift towards Trent's photo; he's the only victim without a connection to the others. She stands, taking her mind off of Michelle's tongue ring and clears her throat, "What about Trent?" The focus is geared towards her as she breaks their brief episodic spurt of joy in finding a link to remind them that the biggest piece of the puzzle remains unsolved and unanswered.

"Burgess is right," Hank says, nodding along as he approaches the whiteboard, "Let's focus in on Trent. While I was in my office, I started thinking…maybe his death was a warning."

"What do you mean?" It's Ruzek who states the question everyone had been wondering.

"Trent's a male. He doesn't fit with the rest of our victims. He was a random guy who shared a few words with Erin and hours later he turns up dead," Voight explains, watching as Erin walked back over to her desk to resume eating her donuts and trail mix.

Atwater raises his hand to ask, "Do you think the killer wants all of us to know he's watching?"

"I think he does," Voight bites against his bottom lip and nods, "which is why I'm issuing a safety warning. It's obvious our perpetrator is not against killing cops and men. Everyone is up for grabs. Trent was a warning for all of us, so none of us are to venture out alone," he asserts, making eye contact with each detective separately, "I cannot emphasize the buddy system enough. Anywhere we go, we have a partner."

"What are we? Five?" Ruzek jokes, and the stoic expression on Hank's face immediately silences Adam's laugh.

"The perpetrator sent Linda's ring and locks of Claire's hair to Erin and he just now sent Michelle's tongue ring to Burgess," Hank reiterates a serious reminder; none of this is funny or worth being the topic of a joke.

"And not to mention," Atwater nonchalantly comments, "they both match the description of the previous women he has killed."

Voight honestly never even thought about that. The only time their appearance matching that of their victims crossed his mind was months ago when he sent them undercover. He never made the connection when they were receiving packages. Erin knows Hank. She knows the varying facial expressions he delivers day in and day out. And when he waves for Olinsky to walk over, she knows what he's about to order, "Al, assign officers to Erin's house and Kim's apartment. Erin, you don't need to come into work; go home and enjoy your pregnancy."

"You honestly don't have to do that," Lindsay swallows her last bite of donut. She wipes her dry eyes as she rises to her feet. They always seem to burn at the worst time possible.

"You're unable to defend yourself at the moment," Hank retorted, his hand waving wildly at her current state.

"I'm pregnant Hank," she commented, before pointing towards the weapon in her holster, "and I'm loaded. We're going to be fine."

"You have a duty to that baby."

Her hand waves in the direction of the whiteboard, "And to those women…"

"I hate to say it, but that can take a backseat."

"You're not thinking about taking me off this case."

"Just think of it as early maternity leave…"

She rolls her eyes, "That's not due until I'm at least seven months. Come on Hank; don't bench me when we're getting close to catching this guy." She pleads; her voice and her eyes begging for him to let her stay. She's not asking to go out into the field. She just simply wants to stay on this case, work within the bullpen and be here when they arrest the asshole doing all of this.

"We're not getting close. We still have a long way to go." Tyler remarks; it's his first time speaking to her in weeks.

She responds to his comment, but she doesn't look in his direction, "We have a motive."

"You still don't have a suspect."

Erin ignores Tyler's retort, "Hank-"

"We'll talk about this later, but you both are still having officers parked outside your homes."

"And I'm okay with that," she nods repeatedly; she was fine with being watched, she just still wanted to work on this case. It had been their main focus for months. She has to see it through. She has to see who has evaded the police for a year. She has to see who the mastermind behind all of this was. She needed closure for the families. And she needed solid answers, not speculation. This case has put their unit and the city of Chicago through so much; she absolutely had to see it through.

Voight's desk phone ringing stops him from continuing his side conversation with Erin. He sees Olinsky working on requesting squad cars to be parked outside of his unit's houses and sees Mouse still scanning the footage. He's making his way through. Hopefully, when he sees the third victim, he'll spot something about the man she is accompanying. His other detectives are stuck, they're waiting for their next orders, "That was a good find Dawson," Hank complimented, "we figured out why he takes certain body parts, now we need to figure out why he's keeping them. Some of you can focus on that, the other few; I need for you to form a suspect pool. Look into scientists, inventors, med students, dental students, and everything else along the spectrum and in between." He immediately disappears into his officer to attend to the phone call. Hank had his own leads he was looking into and following up on.

Burgess remains disgusted; she's still freaked out. She was personally sent the tongue piercing of one of the victims. She touched the ring; her fingers brushed against the piece of jewelry that was piercing through Michelle's tongue. She's going to get back to work, but she needed to wash her hands. She maneuvers through the worried faces of Ruzek and West as she goes into the breakroom. She can hear Detective West's feet follow closely behind her, "I'm seriously fine," she goes to the sink, squirts soap into her hands and rinses it off beneath the water.

"If you're sure…"

"I am."

"Hey," Erin greets, poking her head into the breakroom. She spots both Kim and Tyler, but her main focus is on her best friend. She's still the newest member on the team and some of the stuff they've seen and gotten used to, hasn't settled in yet for Kim. Erin walks into the room.

"I don't want to talk about it," Burgess avows, ripping off a paper towel and drying her hands as she leaves both Erin and Tyler in the breakroom. She needed to get back to work. Tyler even prepares to head back out to the bullpen, but as he reaches the door, Erin's arm blocks it.

"You better not break her heart." Lindsay asserts, arms still wide open to block the doorway, "And I'm serious about this Tyler. She's been through enough. Don't break her heart!"

He winks, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "You don't have to worry about that. I got my eyes on a different girl."

"Don't lead my friend on."

"…the same way you're leading me on."

"Goodbye," she says through gritted teeth, dropping her arm and exiting the breakroom.

Tyler is left speechless –he's standing under the threshold of the door. His mouth is wide open and forming a large o-shaped outline. She's not being fun anymore. He thought after giving her some time to get her act together that she would eventually come back to her senses. He didn't appreciate Voight's order of staying away from Erin, and he definitely didn't appreciate Erin of all people warning him to be mindful of her friend's heart. That wasn't how any of this was supposed to play out. He doesn't care about Burgess; he only cares that Burgess is her best friend and he hoped that Lindsay seeing him with her would make her come crawling back to him.

Detective West steps out of the bullpen in time to see Erin sitting behind her desk –she squeezes a few drops of prescription eye drops into her eye. It forces him to take a step back. He steps back into the breakroom and immediately begins pacing, "She's fine. She's perfect." Tyler's convincing himself; he's conditioning himself to fully believe it. His mind is playing tricks on him –that's what he needs to understand and believe. He desperately needs the last two minutes to be erased from his mind, but it isn't that simple. The palm of his opened hand is beating against his forehead and the hits are quickening with each step he takes around the breakroom.

"Are you alright?"

He immediately straightens up, turns around and smiles, "I should be asking you that." His heart is beating in his chest like crazy. It's like switch; he's able to turn it on and off. One second he can be freaking out, pacing around a room while mentally spiraling out of control when the next second, he's calm, composed and confident, "How are you?"

Burgess approaches him, "Why is he doing this? Why is he sending us possessions of the victims?" She needs that male comfort. The feeling of being in a man's presence is always appreciated. She wanted to feel safe and she absolutely didn't when that tongue ring was intentionally delivered to her at work.

"I don't know…maybe he's trying to help you all with the case?"

"He can do that by turning himself in."

"Maybe he's trying to control what's going on."

Kim steps closer, "Why is he playing games?" Her hands pick at the loose thread on the sleeve of his suit jacket.

"Maybe he's bored? Maybe he's tired of the same old, same old."

She looks up, "Seven people that we know of died by his hands." Her eyes meet his and neither can find it in themselves to look away.

"He's sick Kim," Tyler replies, stepping back, "He's not right in the mind." He attempts to remain at least an arms distance away from her.

"That's what scares me."

"He's spiraling."

"He has to be caught."

"Yeah," he sighs, his eyes dazing off in the distance, "especially before he kills again." His eyes remain unfocused even after Voight calls for the team to come to the breakroom. Tyler is thinking about something; what it is, Kim doesn't know. It takes for her to wave her hand aggressively in front of his face while occasionally snapping her fingers to break him out of whatever far off haze he was in.

Tyler doesn't question it; he simply follows Burgess out of the bullpen. Halstead and Atwater had just come from the direction of the restrooms. Olinsky had just come from downstairs. And everyone else remained seated at their desks. However one man, a stranger since Tyler didn't recognize him, was here. He was as professionally dressed as Detective West currently is, but if you ask Tyler, the stranger is a far second for best dressed.

"This is Detective West," Voight introduced to the stranger, "He's only on our team temporarily, for the duration of this opened case. West, this is Dr. Charles; he's the head of psychiatry at Chicago Med." The mentioned doctor steps forward with an extended hand, and while Tyler truly didn't want to shake it, he felt forced. With a fake smile plastered on his face, he confidently shakes the older man's hand.

"What is he doing here?" Tyler asks, slowly pulling his hand away. He wasn't one for shaking hands.

"I called him," Voight answers, accepting the file Dr. Charles pulled out from his briefcase, "A few days ago I gave Dr. Charles the file we created for our perpetrator of everything we know about, including the kills, the victims, the method of execution and everything in between. I wanted him to take a look. I wanted him to tell us about who exactly we're up against."

Dr. Charles nods. He's been at the district plenty of times consulting on a case with the Intelligence unit. This wasn't the first and it surely wouldn't be the last. He was happy to take a look at the case file in order to approach the perpetrator from a new angle, an angle that required years of training and education to spot, grasp and diagnose. Dr. Charles saw it right away. Although, he couldn't make a clear and certain diagnosis until he sat down with the killer, but he was almost positive that this murderer is smart, yet mentally deranged.

"There's always error in diagnosis, but I firmly believe the killer you're looking for is a textbook psychopath," Dr. Charles starts by admitting a disclaimer, before delving deep within his reasoning for such a diagnosis, "Now remember, not all psychopaths are murderers. There are many individuals living prosperous lives with psychopathic tendencies. I just want that to be said before you all start hunting down everyone with a psychopathic diagnosis. I also don't believe the killer knows he's a psychopath; many people with disorders go undiagnosed everyday. And I was looking at the file," he nods his head towards the casefile resting in Voight's possession, "and his killings are sporadic. He hunts his victims at a nightclub which is a risky thing to do. I can send over the file I created later to tell you why he's a psychopath, but right now, I'll tell you traits he fits that you all should watch out for," Dr. Charles rests his hands in his suit jacket pocket as he takes the offered seat Dawson rolls his way, "They're charming; they have an inclination to be very smooth, laid-back, slick, engaging and verbally shallow individuals. They're not shy, self-conscious or afraid to speak up; they're very confident in their words and actions."

Erin looks up to feel Tyler's eyes on her. She purposely avoids eye contact and eventually his eyes drift over to Burgess. Kim is engaged in every word Dr. Charles is saying; he's knowledgeable and she wants to know every detail about the person who could commit such atrocious acts. She needed to know what kind of person would send her and Erin valuables of the deceased. Who is sick enough and twisted enough to do that? Kim scoots her chair closer to listen as Dr. Charles continues, "They're self-assured, very opinionated, cocky and definitely a braggart. They make smart criminals and even smarter businessmen officials. It all depends on how they channel those tendencies because they are arrogant, and they do believe they are superior to everyone else. They have this need for thrill, some type of exciting stimulation. They're prone to take chances and as I said earlier, engage in risky behavior," Dr. Charles takes a pause; he's simplifying the symptoms and traits for them when really all of this was much more complicated; these traits aren't all-inclusive, just because he's lacking one doesn't mean he's far from a psychopath, "Psychopaths lack remorse and empathy; they have a tendency to be unconcerned and cold-hearted especially when it comes to their victims."

"He left their bodies in gardens and parks with pink roses around them," Atwater interrupted; to him, that sounded like some type of twisted form of remorse.

Dr. Charles remembered reading about that in the file, however his answer was still the same, and the psychiatrist raises his pointer finger, ready to respond, "He mutilated their bodies by cutting off some type of body part. He's mocking them. By positioning them in a garden or park –both public places- he wants investigators to think he's cherishing them and preserving their beings, when really, he's putting them on display, and he's demeaning them," Atwater nods, fully understanding the doctor's point, and Dr. Charles turns to face the rest of the squad to continue, "They're master manipulators and pathological liars. They will use that deceit to cheat and con for their own personal gain. You wouldn't even know you're being manipulated because they can easily gain people's trust if they wanted. They do it by mimicking emotions –despite the fact that they have an inability to actually feel them, and to those unsuspecting people, they'll appear what society terms as normal. A psychopathic killer is deceitful, cunning and definitely clever; don't underestimate this perpetrator."

Voight scratches beneath his chin; he looks up to see Erin intently jotting down notes on what Dr. Charles is saying. He sets the file down on the nearest desk –Olinsky's desk- before stepping further, ready to probe for more answers, "What are we looking for? How can we narrow down our search Dr. Charles?"

"…the behavior."

"What about it?"

"Your killer has definitely had a long record before his killings. I'm not saying he was a career criminal as a child, but he definitely had some behavior problems in his youth, problems such as maybe lying, stealing, vandalism, bullying, fire-setting, early alcohol use and running away from home. He's probably promiscuous in his sexual behavior, having probably numerous brief and superficial relationships," Erin's eyes fall to Tyler; she's watching him intently listen to every word Dr. Charles is saying, "he's confident in his ability to woo women and he takes great pride in his conquests," Tyler eventually notices Erin and he gives her a bright smile; a smile that is completely inappropriate to be sporting during such a sensitive discussion, "His killings are unpredictable. The impulsivity in his behavior isn't premeditated and he could possibly be unable to resist the urge to kill; he's rash and pretty soon, he'll eventually become erratic."

Erin pulls her eyes away, "Dr. Charles…" She has a question and he turns to acknowledge it, "What happens when he's cornered? Do you think he'll try suicide by cop? Take his own life? Surrender? What do you think?"

"There are always outliers and there's no way for me to say for certain, but I believe he'll do everything in his power to maintain control; he'll try to get out of this alive if he can help it," Dr. Charles answers, earning a head nod from Erin to signify that she understands, "I do believe that when he's cornered and you lay out all of the evidence connecting him to the murders, he won't accept responsibility for what he's done. He'll blame everyone else for the circumstances that are basically his own fault. He'll declare his innocence. He'll act in denial and he'll use that to continue to try and manipulate others. But, don't let this fool any of you; he takes great pride in getting away with crimes. If he does admit fault, don't expect to see any shame or remorse for his actions. Everything he's doing maybe spontaneous to us, but to him, he probably already premeditated everything to minimize evidence, that's why it's so hard to identify and capture him. Anything he left at the scene, he left because he wanted to leave it," Dr. Charles begins walking towards the stairwell, "Psychopaths are professions in keeping up appearances; he'll be levelheaded, calm and definitely meticulous. To the untrained eye, it's easily overlooked. And there are very few things that will make the perpetrator upset, but when it's discovered and picked at, you'll get a reaction." It's the final words he says before zipping up his coat and setting his hat upon his head.

"Thank you Dr. Charles," Voight says, waving as the psychiatrist departed down the staircase.

The doctor calls back towards the sergeant, "Hopefully I was of some help."

And he was; he was of great help. It helped them to get inside of the man who is behind all of this without actually knowing who he is. It'll help them narrow down results. And at the end, it'll play a large factor in capturing him. Once Voight hears the access gate open and shut, he knows the psychiatrist is gone, and he turns on his heel to face his stunned detectives, "I know it's a lot of information to take in and process, but what do you all think?"

"Based off of what Dr. Charles said," Dawson leans forward, his arms crossed and resting against the edge of his desk, "the killer likes to see the pleasure in his kills."

"He's going to want to stick close by to see the aftermath," Olinsky chimes in.

Burgess rises from her seat and begins listing off possibilities, "He could be a medical examiner? A crime scene investigator? A forensic specialist? He could even be a lawyer?"

"What if our killer is a cop?"

Silence falls overhead and everyone turns to face the source of the question –Erin. She's sitting comfortably behind her desk, leant forward with her hands clasped together. She's watching Voight's facial expression; he looks skeptical at the conclusion she drew. Actually, every face looked a little unnerved at the thought, at the chance it could be one of them –a cop dedicated to protect and serve the city and those who inhabit it.

"That's a big accusation Erin," Voight sighs, hating to broach such a thought, "I hope you understand what you're saying. You're implying that someone who killed seven people, if not maybe more, could be a cop. We're brothers in blue Erin. You can't just make a statement like that without facts to back it up."

"If I find you facts…"

"…then we'll follow up on it," he agrees with the nod of his, although he desperately wants to drop that idea all together, he owed it to those women to get justice, regardless of what the killer does in his professional time. Voight pulls his eyes away and glances down at his wrist watch; he silently reads the time, "But, for right now," he looks up to meet her eyes, "I'm sending everyone home to start fresh tomorrow. Dr. Charles gave us some good information, and it's getting us one step closer to nailing this bastard. It's late and I need you all rested up if we're going to put these brains to work to find this guy."

No one can argue with that. Being released from work were words they desperately needed to hear. It's the afternoon, but they've started off early in the morning -it was around five am they all got into work. Voight speaks no further words as he disappears into his office. He's most likely getting into contact with the commander over their recent updates. If he wanted to have a goodnight's sleep then he needed to get her off his back. He didn't want to be woken up at four in the morning to superiors yelling into the other end of the phone line. He knows how important closing this case is just as much as they do. He didn't need to be constantly hounded, but because they had people to answer to as well, he tried to not let them get to him while keeping them in the loop on every detail of the case. As the detectives trickle out of the bullpen, Voight stays back and quietly shuts his door. Besides him, all who is left is Erin and Jay; she doesn't move as fast as she used to, and with Jay's help, she slides her arms into her jacket. She feels like a child as he adjusts her jacket collar before zipping it up for her, "You know I'm not completely useless. I can manage to zip up my own coat."

"I'm sure you can," he replies, taking a hold of her hand as the two begin walking down the stairs, "but it doesn't mean I'm going to stop doing it for you."

Erin shakes her head and laughs, "The therapist said to allow me to remain independent and to let me do things for myself so you don't take away from my individualism."

"She also said," Jay began to quote, sending Platt a wave of the hand as they departed from the district, "to allow me to help you, especially now that you're pregnant."

"I didn't need help zipping up my coat."

"You need to preserve your energy."

"You think the simple act of zipping my jacket will take away my energy?"

He unlocks her parked car, "Are we arguing?"

"No," she shakes her head and gives him a toothy smile as he opens the passenger side door for her, "we're having an adult discussion. The therapist said we both need to start listening to understand, not listening to respond. I'm just trying to understand why you feel the need to zip up my jacket every single time I put it on."

"You always have a hard time doing it; your zipper sometimes gets caught either in the fabric of your clothes or in a strand of your hair. I just wanted to help."

Erin nods, and buckles herself in, "Well that's sweet…"

"I'll stop if you-"

"I didn't bring it up for you to stop. I brought it up to understand and now I do. I appreciate it."

Erin silently leans over the center armrest and pecks his cheek. It's a thank you peck. It's a grateful kiss. She sits back and adjusts the strap of the seatbelt over her chest and belly until it's comfortably and safely positioned. The radio is low and is playing some out of date tune. She watches as Jay lowers the volume even more; now they can no longer hear the song and the beat. Halstead uses the silence to his advantage; he's quietly driving and occasionally glancing over in her direction, "Do you really think our killer is a cop?"

"I think," she chooses her words carefully; "it's a possibility that deserves to be looked at."

"A cop though…"

"Jay crooked cops screw the system all the time."

"I know, it's just cops already get a lot of slack from the public and the media, if this is true…"

She sighs and nods, "I know, which is why this theory is only staying in the unit. There's no reason to let any outsiders know if it's nothing. It was just a thought."

"What brought it on?"

"Jay," Erin whispers; her hands fumble in her lap as she stares out of the window, "do you think Tyler is a psychopath?"

"What?"

"Nevermind," she shrugs it off, "it sounds ridiculous."

"I can't stand the guy. And he may be a lot of things but a psychopathic serial killer?"

"I didn't think he is the killer," she corrected him quickly; "I just thought maybe he has psychopathic tendencies. Remember Dr. Charles said psychopaths live normal lives. Not all are criminal and dangerous…maybe Tyler is one of those."

"A psychopath though…"

"You're right," Erin nods in agreement; she feels his hand cover her own as he drives with his left hand remaining on the steering wheel, "…maybe my brain is trying to make connections that aren't there so I can have another reason to keep Burgess away from him."

"Wait," he briefly pulls the car to a stop at the stop sign, "Burgess and West?"

She reads the look on his face, "Yeah, well nothing happened between them…yet, but the feelings are one-sided and one-dimensional. Burgess deserves better."

"She does."

"That's all you have to say?"

Halstead shrugs and honestly admits, "I'm just happy the guy has moved on from you."

Lindsay couldn't argue with that. She and Jay had been working on improving their marriage, especially since they have a baby on the way. They're working on growing stronger and tougher. If they were to be honest, they thought Tyler's presence back in the unit would cause further issues, but with counseling and Erin steering clear of Tyler, it seemed his presence is having no impact at all –especially since his time and attention had seemed to be placed on Burgess. The car pulls up and parks in their driveway, Erin unstraps herself and looks out of the window, "What happens if the killer is a cop?" Lindsay felt compelled to ask as she watches the setting sun illuminate the darkening sky.

"We'll arrest him."

Erin looks at Jay, "What if-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jay interrupts, stepping out of the car, "And let's not bring work home with us. I'm hungry and if my memory serves me correctly, someone promised to cook my absolute favorite tonight."

Erin chuckles as she gets out of the car, "I'll start dinner," she smirks and follows Jay up to their house. She hears him lock the car door with the automated keys before shuffling through them to unlock their front door. Erin had her own set of keys but they were somewhere at the bottom of her purse. It was just easier for him to open it with his. And after pushing the door open and turning on the hallway light, the two enter and immediately relax in the comfort of their home. She looks at him and smiles, "I'll get to cooking."

"I'm going to bring down the nursery planner we started yesterday," Jay announced, heading towards the steps. Erin nods and heads the opposite way towards the kitchen.

As she preps dinner, she patiently waits for Jay to join her with the planner, nursery magazines and paint samples for them to continue planning the scheme and layout of the baby's room. It was taking entirely too long, and by the time she put dinner in the oven, he was still upstairs. Erin walked towards the bottom of the stairs, "Jay," she leaned against the bannister.

He hollers back, "I can't find it!"

"It's in the office!"

"I'm in the office!"

She sighs, "…on the desk."

"Oh, found it!"

Erin chuckles and rolls her eyes at his horrible way of looking for things. Metaphorically, if it was a snake, it would have bit him. It was the only thing sitting on the desk. The office is a room in their home that they hardly ever use. It was used more when they first moved in and brought work home with them. Now, because they try to leave cases at work and not allow the stress and pressure of work trickle into their home and personal lives, their office has just turned into an unused room that has the potential of being their baby's nursery. After finding and picking up everything needed, Jay is down the stairs and sitting at the table in seconds. Erin is a little slower; she walks to the table and pulls out a seat across from him.

Erin takes a magazine and starts flipping through the different cribs, strollers and car seats. It was all overwhelming. Jay had another magazine and had been looking through the exact same thing. Both are overwhelmed and both look up to meet each other's eyes. She smiles, and slides the magazine towards him, "What about this crib? It's white and really pretty."

"It doesn't look really stable."

"We can always check it out in the store," Erin offered, flipping the page, "Cribs in general, maybe we should check out in the store."

"Or, we can just get this one," he replies, holding up the booklet to show his crib pick.

"Oh no," Lindsay laughs, shaking her head, "I am not putting my baby in that."

Jay shuts the book and chuckles, "What? It's like an antique!"

"Or in other words, it's old, it's used and I'm not sure whether that'll pass any type of safety inspection."

He opens the book and takes another look at it, "Okay…maybe you're right. We should just look for an actual crib in the store."

"…maybe we should look for the stroller and the car seat in the store as well. We can ask the employees questions and tell them any concerns."

"Yeah," Jay nods in immediate agreement.

"We can choose a color scheme; it'll make choosing furniture easier and we can always-" Erin's words are interrupted by a knock at the door. She slides the book of wallpaper designs in front of him while pushing the paint samples to the side, "I'll get the door."

"Ask who's there first!"

"Yes dad," Erin laughs.

Lindsay goes to the side window and peeks outside –it's Burgess. She looks tired, worn-out and just absolutely exhausted. Her eyes were strung out and wide as she continues to beat against the front door with the bottom of her opened palm. Erin quickly acts the moment she notices her friend is on the verge of tears; she swings the front door open, "I really need my best friend."

"Come on in," Erin asserts, waving for her friend to enter, "I'm just making dinner."

Kim can smell the aroma of food cooking and instead of entering into the house, she takes a step back, "I don't want to intrude."

"Come inside Kimberly. You can join us." Erin responds. She doesn't give her friend another chance to reject and instead reaches for her arm and pulls her inside. She shuts the door and locks it, "It's just Burgess babe!" She calls out to Halstead.

The two walk down the hallway –with Burgess slowly taking off her jacket. She steps into the kitchen and the aroma of whatever her friends are about to have for dinner becomes a blessing to her nostrils. It smells amazing. Burgess spots Jay sitting at the dining room table and waves at him; she drapes her jacket around the back of a chair. Halstead is watching; wallpaper samples are in his hands and they're long forgotten as he looks over to meet Erin's eyes, "I'll take these floorplans upstairs," he quickly shuffles everything into one pile, and finish looking through them." Erin nods and silently thanks Jay for offering to leave the room. Burgess stands to the side of the table and her eyes stare off into the direction Jay disappeared in, "Floorplans?" She averts her eyes towards Lindsay for explanation, "Floorplans for what?"

"…the nursery," Erin nonchalantly answers, walking over to check on dinner in the oven.

Burgess' hand immediately flies to cover her mouth, "Oh my gosh, I interrupted at the worst moment possible. I'll leave." She reaches for her jacket, but Erin swats her hand away.

"Stay."

"Where's the nursery going to be?"

Erin pulls a seat out for her friend to sit, "Well considering this is a three bedroom house, we want to keep the guest bedroom and change the office into a nursery considering we never use it. And the office is right beside our bedroom so when the baby finally sleeps in the nursery, the walk wouldn't be as far as if we were to put the baby in the guestroom."

Erin pulls out a seat and drags it towards Burgess; she sits in front of her best friend and while she looks at Kim, she notices her best friend's attention is on something else. Her eyes are staring downwards at the print out paint samples lying on the table. She slides them closer and drifts her eyes over the colors, "Are these-"

"They sure are," Erin bites her bottom lip and nods.

"There are different shades of pink, purple, yellow, green, orange and white. Are you-"

Lindsay smiles, "We're having a girl."

It seems whatever problem Burgess has had suddenly disappeared. She jumps to her feet and pulls her friend up in order to hug her as tight as humanly possible, "Oh my fucking gosh!"

"Shush," Erin whispers, hugging her friend back, "We weren't telling people yet."

Kim pulls away, "Wait," her hands remain wrapped around Erin's upper arms, "Are you saying that I'm the first to know?"

"Yes, and we want to surprise Voight. He already has a grandson so to have a granddaughter would be great."

Burgess is beaming, and bouncing restlessly on her feet, "We're having a girl!" She claps.

"No, we're having a girl," Halstead announces his presence with a correction of Kim's words; he walks into the kitchen and wraps his arm around Lindsay's lower waist, "You told her."

"She practically figured it out on her own."

Jay smiles and pecks the side of his wife's head, "Babe, why does Burgess think our kid is hers?"

"If I had an answer for that I would tell you," Erin laughed.

Burgess walks around the dining room table and approaches the glowing parents-to-be. They're standing, his arm around his wife's waist, and Kim stands before Jay, "Congratulations Papa Jay. It's a girl." She pats his shoulder enthusiastically.

"Thanks Kim," Jay replies, nodding with gratitude, "Don't go telling anymore people."

She positions her fingers and slides them across her lips, "My lips are sealed."

"Now," Erin rotates herself to face him –chest to chest, "I thought you were going upstairs." Her chin rests upon his hardened chest as he peers down at her.

"I forgot the paint samples."

"You sure did," she chuckles, drawing back.

"I just came to get them."

Erin scoops them into one pile, "Here. Take them."

"Thanks," he says, pecking her lips and taking a hold of the samples. Seconds later, he disappears back upstairs, leaving his wife and her best friend in the kitchen to discuss whatever brought Burgess over. Lindsay turns back to find Kim staring at her; her eyes are wide and filled with moisture, a slick and watery teardrop falls from her eye, "You two are adorable."

"You didn't think that a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, well, a few weeks ago Ruzek and I were breaking up and you two were going through some craziness."

"Alright, now what's the matter?"

Kim looks at the staircase; she doesn't want anyone to overhear and with Jay already managing to walk in on their earlier conversation, she's nervous he'll walk in on the next. She just wanted to talk to her best friend, maybe receive a little advice and then get out of their way for the remainder of the night. Erin seemed to pick up on it all. Burgess wasn't able to hide her emotions, at all; it was a constant struggle for her. And because Lindsay knew that her best friend was holding back on her words because of her husband's sudden interruption, she waved for her to follow her to the living room. It was further than the kitchen and the stairwell. No one could overhear what's being discussed.

"I came here for girl chat" Burgess admits, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "and I feel even more comfortable having girl chat with you knowing you are carrying a girl; so I don't mind her listening in." Kim tries to make light of the situation but Erin steers it back on course.

"Is this about Ruzek?"

"How did you know?"

"It could be because everything has been about Ruzek for the last few weeks," Erin remarks, taking a seat beside Burgess on the couch.

Burgess releases a loud and strangled breath, "I know Erin. And it's irritating. I broke up with him. I want to be able to move on from him! I absolutely hate it when my ex tells me that he's here if I need him. I mean…where the hell was he when we were together and I needed him?" She ranted and stared at the fireplace positioned across from the couch she's sitting on, "And I didn't want Halstead to hear because I know he and Ruzek are the male equivalent to me and you, and I can't afford for Adam to hear that this breakup is affecting me just as much as it is him. This is just too much right now."

"What do you need from me?" Erin kindly asks, rubbing soothing circles against her friend's back, "You want to vent? I can listen. You need advice? I may have a few quotes up my sleeve. Just tell me what you need."

"You're my best friend," Kim comments, turning to face her friend completely; she kicks off her shoes and draws her knees up to her chest, "You're the person who's supposed to talk me out of choking my ex-boyfriend." Her feet are planted firmly on the couch cushion and her arms are wrapped around her bended legs.

"And talking you out of choking Ruzek is what I shall do," Erin asserts, using the arm of the couch to push herself to her feet, "My personal advice…move on."

"Really?" Burgess looks up at her friend in disbelief, "Please don't tell me when baby Halstead comes to you for relationship advice and motivation you won't be saying move on."

"No," Erin chuckles; her hands fly into the air as she steps back, "let me finish. Move on Kim. If you don't want to be with him, move on. It's okay. Wallowing in misery isn't going to get you there. Now, if you want to be with him, be with him. Love him. Enjoy him. That's okay too. You just need to know what you want because you may have broken up with him, but someone who is ready to move on wouldn't still be this upset over a break up they initiated over a month ago."

Kim's forehead flops against her bended knees, "That's easier said than done."

"Why did you break up with him?"

"He's childish. He's not ready to grow up," Burgess complained, dropping her bended legs and leaning back into the seat, "I want to settle down, get married, buy a house, and have a baby and all of that other good stuff. He's not ready for any of that and I'm not getting any younger Erin!"

"Don't rush to any of that until you're ready."

"I am ready."

"No you're not," Erin exclaimed confidently, "I'm barely ready and I've been married for six years. No one is ever really ready to have a baby until you have a baby Kim," she walks –or in other words wobbles- back and forth in front of her friend, "It all looks like sunshine and roses until you're living and working with your husband, and you see him every day and everywhere, and you're carrying a baby who has caused you absolute hell in your first trimester and-

"Hey, don't talk about her like that," Kim defends, pointing a playful finger at Erin in fake rage.

Erin flops down beside her, "My point is…do you love him?"

"I do. I love him a lot."

"Shouldn't you fight for your relationship then?"

"I just love myself more."

Lindsay pats the top of Kim's head, "Thatta girl," she chuckles loudly when Burgess pushes her hand away, "I can't argue with that."

The smile on Kim's face falters; when she pushed Erin's hand away, her own came into contact with Lindsay's ring, it was a reminder that her friend was married –most if not all of her friends were married, and she was still unwed and now single, "I should just face the fact," her hands fumble together after her head glumly drops, "I'm going to be an unwed, childless and-"

"Hey!" Erin interrupts, snapping her fingers in her friend's direction, "That's enough of that!"

"What? It's true!"

"I'm pregnant so I'm very emotional right now. If you laugh, I'll laugh. If you cry, I'll cry. So please, for my sake, choose wisely."

Burgess used the bottom palms of her opened hands to run across her eyes. She dried them, but they almost immediately watered back up. Fortunately, Erin wasn't looking. She was using the arm of the coach to push herself to her feet again. Lindsay could smell the delicious aroma of the food spreading through the house –it served to be a reminder that she needs to check on it.

"This is going to sound so needy."

Erin walks out of the living room, "I can assure you it's not!" Her voice is loud enough for Burgess to hear from the kitchen.

"I really need my best friend."

Lindsay turns off the oven, "And you have me."

"But you're about to have a baby…you're going to be occupied."

Erin reappears in the living room, "Never too occupied to help a friend."

"What if I need someone to talk to?"

"I got two ears."

"What if I'm at home alone in my apartment?"

"I'm a phone call away."

"And what if I jump off a bridge, would you be beside me on the way down?"

They both chuckle simultaneously; Erin is the first to calm as she responds to Kim's question, "How about I stop you from jumping off that bridge? And if that doesn't work, I can always wait at the bottom to catch you."

Burgess smiles and nods, "I like the sound of that." She sniffs.

A silence falls over the group; it's absolutely quiet. It isn't awkward though. Erin can tell that Kim has something on her mind. For whatever reason she came over, it wasn't all fully discussed. She's looking at Erin with contemplation in her eyes; she's trying to examine Lindsay, trying to see what sort of mood she was in before delving deeper into her next concern.

"Please, for the sake of the silence in the room, just spit it out."

And she does, "I've been thinking about asking West out."

An immediate response isn't given. Erin wants to choose her words wisely. She knows Burgess and she knows West. She knows they'll never work out. Tyler has no interest in her. And Kim is just desperate right now and it's affecting her judgment. She doesn't truly have an attraction towards West, at least Erin hoped she didn't. Lindsay runs her hand through her hair and blatantly sighs, "I don't think you should."

"You're married Erin. You can't call dibs on him too."

Lindsay's taken aback –she's bewildered, "I don't want him. He just doesn't want the same things that you do."

"I deserve a good man."

"You do, but Tyler's not it."

"And why is that?"

Erin backs away; she doesn't want to talk about Tyler, "Let's stop with the guy talk," she walks over towards the wine cabinet, "Let's talk about something less complicated," she pulls both cabinet doors open, "And I have something that's going to cheer you up." Within seconds, she pulls out a bottle of wine.

Burgess sits up, "You can't drink." She growls in reminder.

"I know I can't, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't," she grabs two wine glasses and walks over, "While you pour yourself a glass, I'm going to pour myself a glass of grape juice. It's the closest thing to wine because grapes, you know?"

"You need this," Kim sadly declines.

"You need it more."

"I drove here."

"You can spend the night in the guest room."

"I really want a glass of wine."

"…then what's taking you so long to pour it?"

"I'll be drinking alone."

Erin sets the two wine glasses down onto the coffee table, "I know it's not the same, but I'll be drinking a glass of juice. I'm drinking wine with you in spirit. Now take it," she extends the bottle of their favorite wine, "And this time next year, I'll have a glass with you; my treat."

"Whoa…whoa now…" Burgess sits up straight and takes the bottle from her friend, "This time next year," her eyes follow Erin as she disappears into the direction of the kitchen, "why the long wait?" Kim stands up, a firm grip around the bottle of wine as she waits for a response.

"I'm considering breast feeding," Erin reemerges in the living room, holding a jug of grape juice, "And I don't know if it's weird or not, but Platt has been leaving me baby pamphlets on my desk and I started reading it, and the benefits are pretty good." Lindsay picks up her own wine glass and pours herself half a cup full. She hears Burgess sigh and Erin looks over; Kim is staring down at the bottle of wine in her hands and she consistently reads the brand over and over again. She sees the bottle opener extended towards her, "Take it."

"I really want that drink."

"…then pour it."

Kim takes the bottle opener, "That's a really good wine."

"That's why I'm trying to get you to open it up!"

Burgess hesitates and the bottle opener hovers above the cork, "We should save it for a special occasion."

"Being alive is the special occasion," Erin asserts, lifting up her glass of grape juice, "Now open it up and pour yourself a damn glass."


	11. Tattoo

When there hasn't been a killing in the last few months, people start to relax, people begin moving on, people start to forget and stop living in fear. The pressure from their superiors strengthens as the media's presence starts to fade away due to more current news. It gives the team the opportunity to take a deep breath, relax while also maintaining focus on the case. Erin manages to keep track of how long they've worked on the case by the timing of her pregnancy. She's currently twenty-five weeks pregnant; that's a little over six months. They've been working on this case for a total of seven months. The case files in front of them had gotten thicker and heavier the more information they found; everything inside wasn't important, but they didn't want to throw something out that could later be useful and vital to the case.

Erin shifts for the fifth time that day; her butt is sore in the seat and her stomach is repeatedly being assaulted by the baby's foot. Kick after kick, they grow stronger and harder. In the beginning, when the baby kicked for the first time while she and Jay were at a counseling appointment, it had been a shared moment between the two parents-to-be that she'll never forget. She stopped talking, turned to her husband, grabbed his hand and let him feel. They ended their session early that day to celebrate with dinner and a movie. Any kicks after that though was tiring and sometimes aching; if the kick is against her ribs, it's even more painful. The only people besides Halstead to seem to love and want to feel every single kick was Ruzek and Burgess. Her stomach was like a hand magnet when around them, no matter where they were. The baby kicks again and she jerks forward; her hand immediately flies to the area suffering the brunt force of their baby's foot. They've been at work for two hours so far and her little soccer player must have been having a tough match inside her stomach at the rate and frequency of the kicks. Erin shifts in her seat again; her thoughts are divided between the occasional kicking in her belly and the fact that they've been here for two hours and Burgess has yet to show up or call in to say that she's running late. This isn't like her, which is why she is now calling her friend for the fifth time and once again leaving another voicemail.

"Where are you? I'm getting worried. Call me back okay. Bye," Erin sighs, and hangs up once her message is delivered. She sets her phone down and looks up to see Halstead bringing breakfast over. A delicious breakfast that consists of orange juice, a donut and a breakfast sandwich from the deli down the street made her entirely too happy for her to admit to anyone. Being able to eat what she wants whenever she wants without any judgment or shame was an idea that is part of her picturesque world.

Jay sets the bottle of juice down, "Burgess still isn't answering."

"No, and I'm officially worried," Erin answers, rolling her seat further up to her desk.

"Burgess is a big girl; she's fine, she probably just overslept," he replied, pulling out his wife's breakfast to set down in front of her, "didn't she have a long night again? I thought she went on a date last night with some accountant guy?"

"Ssh," Erin immediately silenced him, "Kim doesn't want Adam to know," she turns back to face her husband after being assured that Ruzek didn't overhear, "She went on a date last night and she text me our code word when she made it home…with him, and that's the only thing stopping me from driving over there. I don't want to walk in on, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know and I would prefer not to be reminded of it," Jay remarked, withdrawing his own food from the takeout bag, "now, in other news, how is the little lady treating you?"

"Besides ripping apart my internal organs?" Lindsay joked, quirking a brow at the smirk lining his face, "she's treating me fine," Erin unravels the food wrapper from around her sandwich, "And I get the baby is growing and has to move around in response to external stimuli, because she's stretching and for normal development, but does she have to kick so hard and often?"

Jay extends his hand to the top of her round belly, "I think it's amazing."

"Of course you do, you're not the one that's pregnant," Erin quips, using both hands to lift her sandwich. She was a woman surrounded by and working with men, she bit into that sandwich with her mouth open as wide as she could possibly stretch it. Jay chuckles as she sinks her teeth into her food.

"I'll leave you to eat in peace," he backs away.

With her mouth full, she covers it to respond, "I'm still worried about Burgess. This conversation only took my mind off of her for a few minutes."

"Won't you give her another call?"

Erin nods, sits down her sandwich and lifts her phone back up to redial Kim's number. And it rings. Kim hears it. She hears her phone ringing for the umpteenth time, but she's too much in a hurry to stop and answer it. She's running late. With her shoes in hand, she's running through the underground parking garage in the direction of her car. It's dark. No sunlight is emitted in the underground garage. She's in a hurry. She got back late last night after a night out with Tyler; Erin doesn't know, but Burgess went against her advice and actually asked him out –it was a mistake though. She got home extremely late after spending her night with a man who only talked about himself. Her lie was that she's going on a date with a boring accountant. The boring part was the truth, but the accountant part was a flat out lie. She wasn't up for a lecture and now that she knows there won't be a second date, she wasn't up to hear Lindsay say I told you so. It was best that Erin didn't know. She already kicked herself for not listening, and after dinner and a movie, he took her to the park to continue his talk, all about himself.

Kim's phone rings again, and she's forced to ignore it as her hand shuffles through the contents of her purse. She's standing at the driver's side of her car, her hand digging through her purse in search of her car keys. She's growing exasperated. She hears them moving around, but she doesn't feel them. Another sigh of frustration is released, but it is cut off half way. It's unable to fully come out because something is preventing it. A beaded necklace is clenched around her neck after it was swung around countless times. Her purse drops. The shoes in her hands fall. Her hands instinctively fly to the beaded chain and she's trying to claw at her. Burgess is yanked back. She's clawing at the piece of metal as it starts tearing into her skin. Her air supply is cut off. She's seeing spots. Her vision is blurred. Burgess knows she's losing consciousness; she knows that once it's gone, once she stops fighting, it's over. In the reflection of her car window, she sees a masked man, but due to her failing vision, she's unable to see his eyes. And against everything in her, her eyes close; they close for a few seconds, before she springs them back open. He tightens his grip around the chain and pulls harder and harder until all consciousness is lost. The masked man releases the chain and watches as she drops to the ground.

Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath she takes. She's still alive, but he knows it isn't for long. The man lowers himself to his knees, rips open her buttoned-up shirt and withdraws a marker from his hands. He sees it; the butterfly tattoo. It's on the right side of her lower abdomen. And with the black marker, he traces an outline around it. It's sloppy. He doesn't have the time to take her back to his place, remove the tattoo and then finish the job like he did his previous victims -except for Trent. The masked man shoves the marker back into his pocket and when he pulls his hand out this time, there's a scalpel in it. Without any hesitation, he starts carving. He's tracing it along the outline of the black circle he drew, and with an opened plastic bag next to him, he has every interest in taking and bagging it. He makes sure he doesn't stab her –that's not his method- he grazes the knife around the black circle and with each scrape, the knife digs in deeper and deeper. It's all superficial; he traces the knife around the circle and this time it draws blood –a few specks.

"Hey!" The masked man's head shoots up and he immediately identifies the source of the interruption –there are four men approaching, "What are you doing?" He shoves the knife into his pocket, grabs the plastic bag and takes off. Once he sees the men begin to run over, he sprints off. The men separate; two go after him and the other two tend to Burgess –she's stirring awake. She hears a male's voice talking on the phone, giving their location to the police dispatch. Another man is helping her sit up and unraveling the beaded necklace from around her neck.

Her vision is spotted and blurred. She's coming to, but not as fast as she hoped. Her hand is pressed against her forehead as her eyes struggle to register her surroundings. She feels someone's hand press against her mid-back; whose ever hand it was supported most of her weight as she maintained a seated position. Whispers of worry and questions of concern overwhelm her ears, "I need, I need my phone," she points in the direction of her dropped purse.

"We called an ambulance and the police," one of the men informed walking over towards her.

"My phone," she mutters, feeling her blurred vision straighten out; she's pointing towards her purse, and the man who spoke earlier walks over to grab it.

The other man remains sitting beside her; his hand pressed against her back, "Two of our friends went after that guy. Are you okay miss?"

"I need to call my boss," she whispers, digging through her purse the second she got it.

"You're hurt. You're bleeding."

And for the first time since waking up, she looks down. Her shirt is spread wide open. Her white bra is stained with drops of blood. Two trickles of blood slowly flow downwards to the cracks of her belt buckle. The cut isn't deep. It'll only need a few stitches. She extends her phone towards the man sitting beside her, "I'm Detective Burgess. I need you to call Sergeant Voight."

The man nods and takes a hold of her phone. He immediately scrolls through her contacts and calls him. Ambulance sirens fill the background and they drown him out as he informs her sergeant on his identity, his whereabouts and what he witnessed. Seconds afterwards he hung up and she automatically knew that Voight and the team were on their way.

"Your neck…" the man standing called out, pointing towards the area, "it's bruising."

Her hand flies to it and there's a sharp pain the second her fingers lightly rub the wounded skin, "It isn't life threatening," she can assess the damages of her injuries just by the feel of them.

"…maybe you should let us figure that out," the paramedic makes his presence known by his comment. With his medical bag in hand, he stoops low beside Burgess while his partner walks around her to assess all the damage done. The paramedic beside her, presses his gloved hands gently around her neck to check the bones and tissue, "Do you think you can get up and walk to the back of our truck?"

"Yeah." To prove it, she pushes her hands against the ground in order to rise up. Both paramedics and the two men with her stand close to catch her just in case. Once she's standing upright, she wobbles and holds her forehead. Her head is still getting itself together. She feels the paramedics take a hold of her arm and walk her over to the back of their ambulance; they sit her down, and while one paramedic gave her a quick checkup, the other tended to her abdomen. The woman cleaned the superficial wound before looking up, "You'll need six stitches. We can give them to you here or we can take you down to Chicago Med and-"

"Do it here."

"We don't have anything to numb you. We ran out and we were planning on stocking up at the hospital. It's still your choice. Some people choose to go without it."

Burgess looks the female paramedic in the eye, "Stitch me up. I need to stay here…wait for my boss. I have to give the team my statement. I have to wait until their friends," she points at the two men who saved her, "comes back. I need to make sure they're okay."

Once consent was given, the female paramedic prepped the needle and seconds before the Intelligence team pulled up –sirens blaring- the needle is inserted. It stung. And with each incision, the burn increased. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she opens them when her team runs over. Ruzek is hovering over the shoulder of the paramedic applying stitches to her abdomen. Dawson and Atwater are speaking with the two men who called Voight from her cell. Olinsky is getting an update from the male paramedic on her injuries. Voight and Halstead are standing beside her seated form, waiting for her to talk –to say anything. And she was about to speak, but she sees Erin; she sees her wobbling over. Kim pulls her eyes away and looks to Jay, "What's she doing here? She shouldn't be out here."

"We tried to convince her to stay," Jay answered, setting his hand upon her shoulder, "How are you feeling? What happened?"

"It's not safe for any of us to be out here, especially her." Burgess remarks, pointing as Erin continues her approach.

"We didn't have time to argue with her about staying at the precinct. She was worried about you Kim. And stress isn't good for the baby, she needed to see that you were okay in order to calm down," Jay explained, squeezing her shoulder in support, "Now tell us what happened?"

"It was the killer," Burgess said through clenched teeth; she's trying to ignore the pain in her lower abdomen. Her adrenaline had worn off and any amount of pain that was once overlooked had now risen. She involuntarily reaches for Ruzek's hand and squeezes it as the paramedic finishes up the last stitch. She turns her head to face Halstead in order to finish answering his question, "Two guys went after him." And the second those words left her mouth, the two men reappeared completely out of breath.

"We lost him," one guy proclaimed, hands resting on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath, "We chased him down three blocks, but he just disappeared."

"How's her neck?" Adam's voice chimes into the conversation, although his question is directed at the paramedics. He's worried and he isn't a doctor, but the bruising around her neck looked serious. It was shaded dark and miniature cuts of dried blood were sprinkled around. The sharp beads on the necklace had scraped against her flesh, just like it had done to the previous victims.

Voight leaves Erin and Adam by Burgess' side as the paramedics continue to give her a brief assessment. He waves for the two men to follow him and Halstead as they walk to the side of the ambulance. Both men –still breathing heavily- followed the sergeant and detective towards the front of the ambulance. It wasn't as loud and filled with chatter from everything else going on. Hank didn't want the guys to get scared; it was best for the witnesses to simply think they stopped a potential robber or assault. They couldn't afford for the witnesses to panic at finding out they helped to prevent another murder at the hands of a serial killer. Voight wasn't going to go into details with them; he just needed to know what they know. Hank allows for the both of them to catch their breath, before posing his question, "Did you see what he looked like?" Both of their heads shake no, and he prods for more information, "What was he wearing?"

"Black sweatpants," one exasperatedly exclaims.

"A black jacket," the other man adds in, "and a ski mask."

The first one gets his breathing together, "he also had on bright like neon green shoes." The sound of police sirens fills the inside of the underground parking garage and once the officers hopped out of their vehicle, Voight shouted an order, "Our suspect, black sweatpants, black jacket, ski mask and neon green shoes! FAN OUT!" The order is direct and without any questions, they follow it. The perp was still out there. This was as close to him as they could get.

Halstead leaves Voight's side and rushes towards the back of the ambulance. Burgess is standing on her two feet, her shirt –covered in blood stains- buttoned up and secured over her freshly bandaged wound. Ruzek is holding her face in his hands, giving her an overlook; his eyes examined every inch of her body. Erin is watching –a small smile on her lips as she witnesses a private moment shared between her best friend and her husband's best friend. As she watches and enjoys the scene in front of her, she feels Jay's hand slide around her back; he's nudging her forward. And she finds herself stumbling over her own two feet as she tries to keep up, "Why are you walking so fast? Where are we going?"

"You're going to the car," Jay answers, pulling the passenger side door open, "Hop in."

"Jay-"

"Erin," he asserts, his hand holding the passenger door wide open, "get in the car."

She sees the look on his face. None of this is up for argument. She wants to stay updated on the case and finish checking in on Burgess, but she'll have to do that later. Lindsay takes a hold of his offered hand and steps into Voight's truck. She's comfortably nestled into the leather of the chair and her eyes look in the side mirror to watch what's occurring behind the vehicle. She hates being sidelined, but she understood why it needed to happen. She wanted, needed, to be where the action was, not pushed aside like a defenseless pedestrian on the street. Pregnancy won't stop her from doing her job. She's just as useful as she was before she got pregnant. Erin sighs glumly at the sight of police tape being put up to block off the crime scene; she was missing out on everything. A pout is evident on her lips causing for Jay to lean into the vehicle and press his lips against hers. She immediately relaxes. Her hardened lips moved against his as his hands cup the side of her face, "Thank you for not arguing with me," he whispers; his lips moving against hers in the process. They separate and she turns back to face the rearview mirror, desperately wanting to at least watch what's going on. Halstead closes the door and jogs back over to the scene.

Erin is left in the passenger seat of Voight's truck biting her lip and twiddling her thumbs. She was growing antsy at desperately needing something to do. The baby kicked and her hand immediately flies to the area her daughter's foot hit against. She rubbed the area to soothe her daughter and her skin; that kick really hurt. There's another kick seconds afterwards. She's anxious and worried and her daughter was feeding off of that energy. Erin needed to calm down. Against everything in her, she pulls her eyes away from the rearview mirror, leans back in her seat and closes them. She blocks out the noise of approaching sirens, chatter coming from the forming crowd and the police radio in the car constantly giving orders and locations. Erin blocked that out, only for the sound of her ringing phone to fill her ears, "Hello!" She doesn't bother to check to see who it was.

"Hey Erin!"

From the sound of Tyler's voice, Lindsay sits up, "What do you want? We're a little busy."

"I just got into work," Tyler answered, taking a seat against the edge of Kim's desk, "Mouse isn't here. Platt's on lunch. And everyone else in Intelligence is gone."

"We're at the underground parking garage at Kim's place. She was attacked."

"What?" He pulls out his car keys and descends down upon the stairs, "Is she okay?"

"She's been better, but she's alive so I'm not complaining."

"Does she remember anything?"

"…not much."

"Anything about who hurt her?"

"I don't think so," Erin responds, looking back up to the rearview mirror, "I haven't heard much, but I think he got away. We know it was the killer who attacked her, but she didn't get a good look at him. The police are searching the premises. Hopefully, he left something behind."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

Erin hangs up. She pockets her cell phone and resumes looking out of the rearview mirror. As she watches the scene unfold, she eventually focuses in on her eyes. Since increasing her prescription, they've been getting better. She's even able to use them with her contacts in her eyes, and thinking of it, causes for Erin to withdraw her eye drops from the cup holder she sat them inside. She's trying to do two things at once, she's unscrewing the cap of the prescription bottle while keeping her eyes focused in the reflection of the rearview mirror. She's watching, and at the same time, she steadies her hand while aiming the eye drops into her eye, "Ugh, damn it," the drop falls to her cheek, and she smoothly wipes it away with her finger, "stupid eye drops!" Lindsay refills the tube and squeezes another drop into her eyes. She blinks and allows for the eye drops to settle and once her vision focuses back in on the scene before her, she sees two officers approaching her sergeant, holding the arms of a man. He's yanking and struggling to pull himself out of the grip of both officers. And as Lindsay watches the bearded man being pushed to his knees, she reaches for the door handle.

Her hand hesitates. She was told to stay inside, but that was before they caught the man matching the exact clothing description of Kim's attacker. Erin pushes the door open. She's prepared to step out of the vehicle, but her eyes spot Jay. He's covering Ruzek's back as they maintain eyes on the scene. Erin watches her husband, he's consistently looking over his shoulder as Voight and Olinsky handle their suspect, and the second he looks away, his eyes avert towards the truck. Instinctively, she slams the door shut. She couldn't go out there. Erin's eyes glance down to her rounded stomach, and she comes to terms with her choice to stay inside Voight's truck. It's for the best. It may not be what she would normally do, but the circumstances have changed.

Jay releases a deep breath the second he saw the door shut. He's happy she stayed. He didn't want her stressing and on her feet for too long. It couldn't have been good for her or the baby. Halstead and Ruzek had approached Voight, who is currently shouting and demanding answers from the man. He's frantic. His beard is peppered gray and his white skin is paling out of fear. He's looking around for someone to jump in, but no one budges. Olinsky approaches, leading the four witnesses over, "Is this him?"

"We're…we're not sure. It happened so fast and the man started running," one of the guys exclaimed; they had just met up at their friend's apartment and were planning on hitting the gym. They weren't expecting to be tangled up in this web.

"What's going on?" the surprised man's hands are pulled and held behind his back.

Another witness pointed at the man's outfit, "His clothes…the shoes, they're all the same."

"What?" the suspect exclaimed, glancing down at the oversized clothes, "These aren't mine! I…I found them in a dumpster! I swear! I'm a homeless guy…I scavenge through dumpsters."

Voight turns to face his team, "What do you think?"

"Dr. Charles did say that our killer is manipulative and a pathological liar," Olinsky quoted, referring to the man's plea of innocence, "He also said that our killer wouldn't take responsibility for his actions. It's possible that this is him, but it's also possible that it's not."

"Dawson and Atwater, I want you both to take our witnesses and get their official statements so they can be on their way," Voight ordered, before turning back to focus on the current matter, "We don't know what to believe right now and an underground parking garage isn't the place to figure it out. We're going to take him down to the station to answer a few questions," Hank turns to Olinsky and hands the detective his cellphone, "Call Dr. Charles and have him meet us there." Without any question, Olinsky takes the phone and walks off to a more silent part of the garage, leaving Voight to turn to Burgess next, "I want the paramedics to take you to the hospital."

"I'm fine," Burgess sighed, wrapping her arm gently around her waist, "The paramedics stitched me up. I'm good."

"I wasn't asking; it's an order. And I'll send Erin with you."

Burgess is forced to turn to the paramedics as Voight ventures off to retrieve Erin. It was safe for the both of them to be at the hospital and away from the precinct where they'll be questioning a possible serial killer. He wanted them far away from this man, especially if he is in fact the killer. Hank knocks against the passenger side window before tugging the door handle and pulling it open, "You're going to the hospital with Burgess."

Erin uses Hank's arm to help herself step out, "Why? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, but we want a doctor to look over her to be sure," his answer satisfies her. She was worried about Kim anyway. As her feet hit the ground, she's prepared to scurry over towards her best friend; however, Hank pulls her back, "Not so fast…I also need you to talk to Burgess. See if she remembers anything. And the killer tried to take her tattoo, see if she knows how he could have possibly found out about it."

Erin doesn't verbally respond –she answers with a direct nod of the head. She was still on the case. She had a job to do. She needed to be there to comfort Kim while also prodding for answers about this case. The paramedic helped her into the passenger seat, while Burgess and the male paramedic sat in the back. She needed to be strapped in safely and securely so it was voted for Lindsay to ride in the front. The sirens are kept off since this isn't an emergency. Erin waves at her husband out of the window as he escorts their first suspect towards the cop cruiser.

Dr. Charles was going to meet the team at the station and watch the interrogation on the other side of the two-way mirror. His sole purpose in being there is to see if their suspect has any psychopathic tendencies. Meanwhile, when that is underway, Erin and Kim arrive to the hospital. Lindsay seems to be more energized than her best friend –counterpart- the latter of whom isn't pregnant. Erin is leading Kim into the hospital and she approaches the first nurse she sees, "Hello, Hi, I need a doctor for my friend."

The nurse quickly scans Burgess and deems her injury as not serious, "Sign in and head to the waiting room."

"She needs a doctor now."

"We're busy right now," the nurse remarks, turning to walk away, but the angered pregnant woman reaches for and grabs her wrist.

"Please don't mistake or misinterpret my kindness for weakness," Lindsay retorts, releasing the nurse's wrist and crossing her arms over her protruding belly, "I'm not asking. I'm not requesting. I'm telling you, we need to see a doctor."

"Erin, it's okay."

She whips her head in Kim's direction, "No, it's not. You're hurt. That could be infected…and your neck, it…it could…it could be-" She finds herself uncontrollably growing emotional. The nurse uses this as her opportunity to step away while Erin remains standing in the center of the hospital lobby with Burgess. Her bottom lip is trembling and her facial muscles tighten, preparing for Erin to start crying at any second.

"You don't have to worry Erin," Kim asserts, throwing her arm around Lindsay's shoulder and leading her towards the front desk.

"Telling me not to worry won't make me stop worrying," Erin shrugs from within Kim's arm, she's clearly irritated, "The killer tried to kill you. He wanted you dead. You were unconscious, he was going to take your tattoo and then finish the job."

Bystanders deliver a skeptical and confusing look in Erin's direction after catching segments of her exclamation. She's worked up. The entire ride to the hospital gave her plenty of time and opportunity to think. She thought about every possible what if scenario. Erin starts to pace, anticipating Kim's response, which should be given at any second. She's trying to not interfere as her best friend checks into the hospital, but as she waits, she grows further impatient. Kim signs the last document and slides the clipboard towards Maggie, "You know I love you, right?" She turns to face Erin and grins at the sight of a smile on Lindsay's face.

Their arms intertwine, "Damn right you love me; it's kind of hard not to." They proceed to walk arm in arm towards the waiting room; it's pretty full, but two gentlemen offer a pregnant Erin and an obviously injured Burgess their seats. They send the two gentlemen a smile of gratitude and a nod of thanks as they take the seat.

Burgess and Lindsay sit side by side in the noisy and overcrowded waiting room. The injuries of the waiters ranged from all sorts of categories. They have a long time to wait and Erin figured she might as well get comfortable. She leans back, and stretches her legs out forward. Her eyes fall to Burgess and she sees the worried look on her friend's face. She's chewing her lower lip, her left leg was shaking and her forehead is starting to sweat –all signs pointing towards how anxious she is. Her leg is bouncing so fast, it causes Erin to lean forward and set her hand upon it, "How about we talk?"

"He tried to take my tattoo," Burgess informs, sighing loudly, "And now he ruined it."

Erin shifts in her seat to face her friend, "You know they say tattoos tell a story and so do scars."

"You're trying to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

"No, not really…" Burgess nervously clears her dry and scratchy throat, "This scar is going to remind me of my naivety and my weakness."

"Let it remind you of your strength."

Burgess's eyes stare forward, "That's easier said than done, but I don't want to think about it," she uses the back of her thumbs to wipe across her eyes; everything that has happened to her today has finally caught up to her and it's now starting –trying- to take its toll on her. She turns her body slightly and presses a mock smile onto her face, "Take my mind off of it."

"Okay," Erin nodded, glancing up at the ceiling to think quickly, "Want to know a secret?" She looks back at her friend, a smile evident on her face, as she hoped it was contagious enough to tug a real one onto Kim's face.

"We don't have secrets."

"Of course we do."

Kim covers her heart, "I'm hurt." She jokes.

"Do you want to know or not?"

"Yes," Burgess releases a loud breath of air.

The mood grows serious. Burgess can already tell that whatever it is that Erin is about to disclose had been weighing heavily upon her. There's only so much comfortability the hard, plastic waiting room chairs offered, and while Lindsay continued to squirm in order to find a suitable position, her hands fumbled on her lap, "Ever since I got pregnant, I started reading a lot of pregnancy and delivery books so I know what to expect," her butt is getting restless and numb having so much weight holding it down onto the chair; she squirms, "And in most delivery books I've read, they mention that you should be mentally prepared just in case you have to have an emergency C-section," Erin hesitates, thinking to herself and trying to form her next thought; she sees the obvious confusion on Kim's face –her friend isn't picking up on where she's going with this, "Most women plan out their birthing experiences only for it to not go as planned. So I started looking into C-sections so I can be prepared for anything…and after reading lots and lots of mommy blogs, articles and pamphlets, I'm…" Erin meets her best friend's eyes, "I'm terrified of having one…a C-section that is."

"You won't though…"

Lindsay turns to face forward; she speaks in monotone, "You don't know that, the fear is a recent development, but it's apparently normal."

"Why are you scared? You're Erin Lindsay; you're not afraid of anything," Kim bumps her shoulder against Erin's and her friend doesn't react, she doesn't acknowledge it.

"Of course I am. I'm afraid of losing the people I love."

"I get that, but a C-section-"

"I've done a lot of reading," Lindsay cuts her off, "While waiting in the waiting room for my OB appointments, I've spoken to a lot of mothers and expectant mothers who have already had children and none of them had good C-section stories. I know it sounds stupid-"

This time Burgess cuts her off, "No. No. It's not."

Erin sniffs, "I just hate not being in control."

"I know."

"I'll be under anesthesia and I'll be going under a knife."

"You'll be fine."

"You don't know that," Lindsay asserts, talking over the rowdiness in the waiting room. She finally turns to face Burgess –relieving her bottom from its uncomfortable pressure against the plastic seat.

"What are you saying Erin?"

She hesitates. She avoids eye contact. She licks her lips, "…if something happens to me-"

"Stop right there," Kim sharply interrupts, pointing her index finger at Lindsay, "Don't say stuff like that. Nothing is going to happen to you."

"But if it does, they're going to need you."

"Erin-"

"My baby," Lindsay quickly interrupts whatever Burgess was prepared to say next, "my husband and my father are going to need you."

"Fine, I'll offer whatever help they accept."

"Thank you," Erin turns to face forward.

The busyness of the hospital takes over as they watch doctors and nurses run about, people in the waiting room complain about the wait time, and constant beeping of machines and doors opening and closing. It was distracting. Once people were called back by nurses, it seemed more people showed up. There was never an opportunity for silence or solitude because the waiting room remained crowded and loud. Burgess and Lindsay are both staring forward, and Kim takes it upon herself to speak next, "Just know, I'll offer help after beating your doctor's ass."

Erin's shoulders shake; she's laughing, "So sweet," she covers her heart with her hands to go along with Kim's joke.

"But it won't come to that."

The mood grows serious again and Erin shrugs, "Better safe than sorry."

"Alright fine," Burgess annoyingly throws her hands into the air, "but when the doctor wheels you out with that beautiful newborn in your arms, I'm going to say I told you so."

"You may be right."

"Let's move the subject along, k?"

They're just patiently waiting for time to pass. Erin's back aches and she feels forced to lean her head against Kim's shoulder. She closes her eyes and thinks about today's events. It was approaching noon and she was already tired. The events of today had worn her out and now that the hard part was over, it was all catching up to her. Burgess almost died. She was almost killed. And as the thought of losing her best friend ripped through her mind, she takes her hands and wipes them across her eyes, "Are you crying?"

She hears Burgess ask and her immediate response is to shake her head –to deny her true feelings, "I'm fine, it's just the hormones."

Kim sees right through her charade, "Erin-"

"Everything has been put into perspective, you know?" It doesn't take much for Lindsay to give in. Since starting couple's counseling with Jay, she had become much more open and approachable. She's starting to open herself up more.

"Yeah," Burgess agrees.

"Life is so short," She doesn't feel in control of her emotions. She sees Burgess, she sees the specks of blood on her shirt and starts thinking about everything that happened; it's hard not to when the victim is sitting next to you, trying to keep herself together and being strong for you.

"What's wrong? You can talk to me."

"Right now," Erin lifts her head from Kim's shoulder to look at her, "I don't need someone to talk to Kim; I need someone to just know that I'm not okay and give me a shoulder to cry on. You almost died."

"I'm fine."

"He knows where you live."

"He knows what building I live in; he may not know my apartment number."

Erin shakes her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, "I'm not taking the chance. You're staying with us until he's caught."

"Voight assigned officers to our homes."

"That officer was perched outside your apartment door, not in the parking garage. You're staying with us…end of discussion."

"Yes mom," Burgess salutes, earning a grin from Lindsay.

Erin shrugs in response, "I might as well get used to being called that."

"Yeah, only a few more months left to go."

"I know. Time has flown by."

The pair leans back in their seats and watch the chaos around them. Today had to be one of the worse days to come to the hospital. It seems most doctors and nurses were off today and the overcrowd of patients left the remaining doctors and nurses here stretched thin. To keep her distracted and to pass the time, Erin pulls out her phone. She's checking to see if there are any updates, but no messages have come through to her phone. She's about to pocket it, when she hears her name called, "Erin," she looks up at the familiar voice, "what are you doing here?" It's Will and he's walking over, "Do you have an appointment? Jay never mentioned anything. Is everything okay with the baby?"

Erin uses the arms of the chair to push herself to her feet, "I'm not here for me; I'm here for her."

"Hey Kim," Dr. Halstead notices her presence, and his eyes widen at the sight of her disheveled look; he sees her stand, and for the first time since he walked in, he spots specks of blood on her shirt, "What happened? I'm on break, but I'll make an exception for family."

Complaints of individuals who had been waiting longer were heard and ignored by the doctor. He leads Lindsay and Burgess out of the waiting area and towards the first open and available room. They're making a long story short, filling him in on everything that happened in the last few hours. Erin assured Will that his brother was safe at the precinct and they believed they arrested the person who did this. Will's grateful and glad that they're all okay. After sliding the curtain back, he points towards the hospital bed, "Take a seat and open up your shirt," He grabs a pair of latex gloves and slides them onto his hands.

Will pulls up a stool, "Erin there's a chair right there. You have a seat too." She doesn't argue or complain; her feet were starting to hurt. She takes a seat at the side of the room as she watches her brother-in-law look and examine Kim's wound, "The paramedics did a good job cleaning it and stitching it back up," he pulls the gloves off his hands, "It looks fine; I'll write you a prescription for some antibiotics to make sure it doesn't get infected though. I also want you to stay away from any physical activity; we don't want your stitches tearing."

"Okay," Burgess replied, buttoning her shirt back up.

"Come back in about two to three weeks, we'll take another look and see if we can cut the stitches." Will ordered, tossing the gloves into the nearby trashcan before heading towards the curtain, "I'll be right back. I'm going to write up your prescription."

"Thanks Will."

The curtain is closed behind him and once his presence is completely gone, Erin gets up. She takes a seat on the stool Will previously occupied. As she waits for her phone to ding, signaling she had a message or an update, she remembers the task Voight gave her. She's supposed to try and get information on how the killer knew she had a tattoo and whether or not she had any more info about her attacker, especially now that she's calmed and can finally relax. She's sitting on the stool, legs open and definitely more comfortable than how she was sitting in the waiting room. Lindsay slides the stool closer to her friend, "Hey Kim," she looks up at the sound of her name, "How did the killer know you had a tattoo?"

Burgess shrugs, "Besides you, Tyler, Ruzek and all of my previous boyfriends, no one-" she cuts herself off and Erin knows that she remembered something, "Shit. It's on my dating profile."

This sparks Lindsay's interest, "You signed up for a dating profile…"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't tell me."

Kim sighs, "I signed up for it last night after my date with Tyler."

"You had a date with Tyler. You went out with him?"

"Yeah, and I don't need you telling me I told you so. All he talked about was either himself or you. There won't be a second date, I let him down easy and once I got home, I signed up."

"Did you match with anyone? Voight would want to know." And to be honest, Erin kind of did too. This dating site was news to her and her role of best friend was starting to seep into her role of detective. She's curious to know, but her face remains stoic at the expression on Kim's face.

"Erin, no, that's embarrassing."

"What? No it's not."

"I have to go to a website to find love."

Lindsay pats her knee to assure her, "There's nothing embarrassing about that. Why does dating websites have such a bad stigma against them?"

"Because I can't find a man in my own life so I have to put myself out there to find someone," Kim snaps, pushing herself off the bed and onto her feet.

Erin desperately wants to probe further, but she needs answers that apply to the case, "Did you message anyone?"

"I talked to like two guys."

"And?"

"And one saw that I mentioned that I checked the box on having a tattoo on my profile. He wanted to know what it was of."

Erin pulls out her cell phone, "What's his name?" She's prepared to text the response to Jay so they can look into it. After posing her question, Burgess withdraws her own cell phone from her pocket. She goes to the app and Erin waits patiently for a reply, "Gregory Bishop.

Will reenters the room as Erin sends the name of a new possible suspect to her husband. Even though they had one suspect in holding, it was still their job to look at other people. They needed to be sure about this. As Lindsay quietly texts her husband, Will gives Burgess her prescription and bids them farewell; now he's about to take his official break.

"Alright," Lindsay mutters, pocketing her cell phone and rising to her feet, "Let's go put the order for your meds in and then head to work. We can pick them up when we're on our way to my house after our shift is over."

"I'm not staying with you."

"Yes you are," Erin leaves no room for further argument.

"And what?" Kim's hands fly into the air as she abruptly stops in the hallway, "We're going to have a pillow fight, roast marshmallows in the indoor fireplace, tell scary stories and stay up all night and pretend like none of this happened?"

"If it makes you feel better, then yes."

Burgess dryly chuckles and shakes her hand. She extends her hand to Erin, and waits for her to set her own hand within Kim's palm, "Let's get back to work."

As Erin and Kim head to the pharmacy to drop off Kim's prescription, Mouse is running a background check on Gregory Bishop. While his name is running through the system, the interrogation is still underway. Voight and Olinsky are the ones in the room with their suspect, Dawson, West and Ruzek are in the adjoining room with Dr. Charles watching over the interrogation. The questioning is heated. Evident biases are present as Voight questions him as if he knows for a fact that this man is their perpetrator. The man is utterly confused and clueless about what is going on. Dr. Charles watches –practically examines- every quirk, behavior and response of the suspect, "He's no psychopath," without taking his eyes off of the frantic and manic suspect he continues, "He's too wild and hysterical to be the killer," they hear the suspect start to cry out of fear, "the killer you all are looking for will be calm when confronted. He's too sloppy to be the killer; he would leave evidence at the scene…a lot of it."

Dawson sighs and knocks against the two-way mirror. Voight and Olinsky end their interrogation, leaving the suspect in the room, to walk out and join the remainder of their team in the hallway. Once the interrogation room door is shut tight, Voight turns to face his unit, "What do you have for me?"

"That's not our guy…"

Antonio's words push Voight to face Dr. Charles, "Are you sure?"

"He's wearing the clothes the witnesses described," Olinsky added into the discussion.

"Maybe he's telling the truth, maybe he actually did get them from a dumpster," Atwater casually mentioned, shrugging his shoulders in thought.

"I hope you're right," Voight looks from Dr. Charles and averts his eyes towards Dawson, "Release him."

Antonio disappears into the interrogation room to take the handcuffs off the suspect and officially release him. Tyler is silent. He's frustrated and pacing circles around the team.

"What's wrong with you?" Voight grunts, growing easily frustrated at Tyler's antics.

"You all can seriously do much better than that!" Tyler shouts, obviously overstepping his boundaries; he's shoving his finger in the direction of Dawson escorting the released suspect down the hall, "We had him! He was guilty! I can't believe you let him go because of some overrated psychiatrist! You all are as useless as a screen door on a fucking submarine!"

"Back down Detective West! Now! That's an order," Voight demands, shoving his finger against the center of Tyler's chest, pushing the younger man against the back wall.

"You had him," Tyler takes a deep breath, struggling to calm himself down, "You had him and you let him go. When, because we all know it's going to happen again, when he kills, it's on you. It's on all of you because you let him go." West shoves Voight's finger off his chest and storms back in the direction of the bullpen.

Halstead and Mouse look up from the computer screen to see Tyler storming back into the bullpen. He takes a seat in Erin's empty desk chair and irately bounces his leg up and down in uneasiness. The remainder of the team gathers into the bullpen, and when Halstead makes eye contact with Ruzek before averting his eyes towards Tyler, Ruzek simply shakes his head, requesting for him not to ask or say anything. Halstead lets it go, knowing he'll get the full story from Adam later. As the background check continues to run on Mouse's computer screen, the team gathers around his desk.

"Anything yet?" Voight questions, peering over Mouse's shoulder to look at the screen.

"No," he answers, leaning back in his seat to patiently wait for the results, "We had Erin get Burgess to send us a picture of him so we can compare it to the findings. There are at least thirty Gregory Bishop's in Illinois that we know of so far."

"He tried to take Kim's tattoo," Ruzek reminded, still trying to come to terms with the events of today. He's walking back and forth in front of Mouse's desk, waiting for the discussion to further; he desperately needs to see Kim again, make sure she's doing okay.

"How did the killer know she had a tattoo?" Halstead poses the question, "We know Gregory knows her from the dating profile, but we shouldn't solely focus on that. His attack on Burgess narrows it down. We know she obviously came into contact with him at some point."

"We can look back into law enforcement, crime scene investigators and medical examiners. Burgess spends her time around them most days," Atwater added.

"Yeah, start there…" Voight agreed, sending his detectives back to their desks, "This is personal. He has unfinished business and we need to catch him before he decides to finish the job."

As each detective breaks away to start searching and combing through possible suspects, Erin and Kim arrive. The soles of Erin's feet ache as she slowly and exhaustively climbs the stairs. She feels like she's been on her feet all day and in the last ten minutes, the baby has started assaulting the inside of her stomach with her feet. She's kicking again –obviously irritated and frustrated by her mother's constant movement. As Erin approaches the top stair, she sets a comforting hand over the area the baby repeatedly kicks against.

"Are you okay?" Erin hears Ruzek's worried voice fill the bullpen as he rushes to Kim's side. She's in a different shirt. Lindsay kept a spare shirt in her locker, where they stopped by briefly before coming up the stairs.

"I'm fine Adam," Burgess replies, wanting desperately to get back to work. She wanted to consume herself with this case to keep her mind off of her attack. Kim needed him caught. She needs for her attacker to be put away.

"If you need someone to talk to," Dr. Charles spoke up, withdrawing his card from his pocket and extending it towards her, "you can give me a call."

"Thanks," she pockets his business card.

Tyler rises from behind Erin's desk to allow her to sit down. She flops into her desk chair and sinks into the cushion. It's comfortable –a hundred times more comfortable than the waiting room chairs. Lindsay feels another kick –less painful than the last- and she purposely overlooks it to focus in on the team, "Did we get anywhere with the man you all arrested?"

"We released him," Voight informed.

Burgess meets her sergeant's eyes, "Why? How come?"

"Apparently, the psychiatrist knows more about this than we do," Tyler said through gritted teeth. He's obviously still not over the last man being released.

"If Dr. Charles says it wasn't him then it wasn't him," Erin's words ring true to the entire unit, but they don't settle for Detective West. He's the only one not willing to drop it.

"We had him Erin."

"Apparently we didn't," she remarks.

Tyler immediately turns to face her, "You of all people should understand. Erin, you have perfect eyes, don't be blind to this. He was our guy."

"No he wasn't."

"Yes he was," his fist slams against her desk, urging Jay to walk over. Halstead approaches his wife, and casually takes a protective seat against the edge of her desk.

"Walk it off Detective West," Voight ordered, pointing off towards the hallway. Hank could tell that Tyler is passionate about this case, but now is not the time to point fingers and arrest someone based off of circumstantial evidence. They want this person caught, but they need to make sure it's the right person they're arresting. Tyler walks to the breakroom.

Suddenly a ping rings out on Mouse's computer causing for the tech guy to sit up straight and wheel himself closer to the screen. The background check is completed and after scanning the photo sent to them by Burgess and running a cross comparison, they narrowed down the search results of Gregory Bishop from 45 people in Illinois to one, matching his DMV photo. Mouse alerts his team, "I found Kim's um…" Mouse didn't know what to call him.

"He's not anything to me," Burgess corrects.

"Sorry, I found Gregory Bishop; he lives in Chicago, Illinois, both parents deceased and he currently works as a mechanic."

Dr. Charles speaks up; he's getting ready to leave soon, he has a shift to get back to at Chicago Med, "What about his criminal record? I'm pretty sure you're looking for someone who has gotten into trouble in their youth."

"Well, looks like Mr. Bishop has a nice lengthy criminal record…" Mouse strolls through the charges listed in Gregory's youth.

"Dating sites need to start running criminal background checks," Erin overheard Kim mutter.

Mouse continues, "We have one count of drug possession, um, there's two counts of assault, vandalism and this is all him as an adult. As a minor, there's joyriding on here, driving under the influence, underage drinking, and trespassing."

"We should bring him in," Olinsky asserts, grabbing his jacket draped around the back of his chair, "If he did attack Burgess, he'll be on the move; he'll be desperate and doing damage control. We need to go now."

Ruzek rises from his seat, "I'll come. I want to help you drag his ass in."

"You're too close," Voight asserted, approaching a fuming Ruzek, "Olinsky, Atwater and Dawson will go and bring him in for questioning."

"Can I go?"

They all turn to face Detective West as he walks out of the breakroom –seemingly calm. He truly didn't have to ask permission from Voight, but asking was a way to stay on the sergeant's good side. Voight looks over at Al and his closest friend nods, "You can go, but you are to follow Olinsky's orders. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Tyler replies, speeding up to catch up with the departing detectives.

"I guess I should also be getting out of here," Dr. Charles says, tipping his hat and bidding the detectives a farewell, "Always nice working with you."

"Thank you again Dr. Charles," Voight concludes to the departing psychiatrist's figure.

Now the waiting game began… They didn't know where this would lead them, but it was progress, it was a step, hopefully in the right direction. Voight headed towards his office, he needed to fill those above him in on the day's events. He quietly closed his office door, leaving Halstead, Burgess, Ruzek, Lindsay and Mouse in the bullpen. For the first time in months, Mouse has nothing to do. He takes a much needed break and goes into the breakroom to make himself a cup of coffee. Halstead is still sitting against Erin's desk and Kim rolls her own desk chair over to join the two. Erin sees her approach and it reminds her, "Oh, babe, I invited Burgess to stay with us until the perpetrator is caught."

"Okay, I'm fine with that," Jay nods as Kim sends him a smile of thanks, "She can help me paint the nursery during her stay."

"You're going to have your house guest work?" Burgess exclaims in shock –she's obviously joking, earning a chuckle from Erin.

"Hey, I already volunteered to help."

Jay shakes his head at his wife's words, "Erin knows she can't do it because of the paint fumes."

"What colors did you two choose?"

Erin sits up, obviously intrigued and excited to talk about this. She opens her desk drawer and pulls out a folder, "We compromised," she opens the folder to point out a shade of white, "ivory white for the ceiling, the door and the wall with the bay window," she flips the page and points to a specific shade of purple, "and for the other three walls, this light periwinkle purple shade; it's pretty. And to be honest," Erin points towards the varying shades of green, "I was leaning towards something in the green family, but Jay's like, he wants girly colors and I'm like hey that's such a gender stereotype."

Both Kim and Jay laugh at Erin's quick talking as the excitement is obvious in her facial expression, her mannerisms and her voice. She's almost seven months pregnant. She's closer to her due date and it's definitely fast approaching. Burgess spots the shared look between Erin and Jay; it's a look that she doesn't understand, but they do. They get each other. And she wants that for herself. After getting caught staring by Ruzek, she clears her throat, "What did you two compromise on?" She wants to avoid any questioning from him.

Erin turns back to face her, "I pick the colors for the walls and he picks the crib."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Actually," Erin raised her finger to defend the compromise, "We went to look at cribs and so far the three he really likes are pretty decent; he's a function over form guy and he just wants it to be as safe as possible. I can't argue with that. And the three cribs he's deciding between have both function and form," Erin reaches into her desk and withdraws a magazine, "I've been looking through this and getting nursery ideas. When Jay and I pick a name, I think I'm going to buy the letters in white to spell it out on the wall."

"Behind her crib?" Adam asks, inserting himself into the conversation.

"The crib won't be against the wall. It'll be in the center of the room," Erin explains, waving for Adam to come closer to take a look at the layout, "Jay is paranoid. He doesn't want any photos we'll hang to fall on her or for the curtains we're putting up to cover the bay window to somehow blow and accidentally smother her."

Ruzek nudges his best friend's shoulder, "Protective daddy mode is already coming out I see."

"And here I thought I had about sixteen more years," Erin continued the joke. Her chuckles lighten the mood and she internally jumps the moment she feels the baby kick. Her little foot is consistently hitting against the inside of Erin's stomach as if she can hear and understand the conversation the adults are having. It's like she's trying to add in her input and it makes Erin laugh. She laughs and covers the side of her stomach to continue to feel her baby's foot repeatedly press against it.

"Is she kicking?"

Erin's grin is stretched a mile wide; she looks at Burgess and nods to answer her best friend's question, "She is. I think it's her way of responding."

"I want to feel again," Kim replies excitedly, extending her hand to allow Lindsay to place it onto the area –Burgess patiently waited and then she felt it, "That is amazing. Erin there is a baby in there. You're growing a baby."

"She isn't a plant Kimberly," Jay laughed at her phrasing.

Burgess tears up, "It's just…I'm so happy for you guys."

"Are we feeling the baby kick?" Mouse asked, walking out of the breakroom to see Kim and Erin nod to answer his question, "Well, don't forget me. I want to feel too." His hand brushes Kim's hand out of the way so his can cover the spot, and he suddenly feels it, "Whoa… that's awesome," he feels another two kicks –back to back- and his eyes widen in amazement, "Ruzek, come feel. It'll help you feel better."

Erin stares at her team in disbelief, "Guys, I am not a petting zoo." Ruzek maneuvers himself closer and Lindsay happily obliges to let him feel; she doesn't want him to feel left out. She takes his hand and positions it in a different spot, the baby must have shifted because she's now kicking against a different area, "…she's being weird right now. She stopped kicking."

"Maybe she doesn't like me?" Ruzek wondered, patiently holding his hand against the area Erin left it, "Maybe she doesn't like her Uncle Adam? Kids don't seem to like me much. Maybe-" he cuts himself off when he feels it. It wasn't the first time he felt baby Halstead kick, but this was the first time he felt how fast and hard the kicks were coming in. Kick after kick after kick, this little girl was too excited.

"Does dad want to feel?" Erin questions after Ruzek pulls his hand away in astonishment. He's standing, eyes wide and mouth agape. That's a miracle.

Jay's hand is placed where Adam's once was located, "This just never gets old," he meets his wife's eyes as the kicking starts to slow.

"She's probably falling asleep." And even though the kicking stops, he doesn't pull his hand away. He leaves it. And Erin doesn't mind. Each of their coworkers remained seated or standing by them, still completely smitten by a little girl who wasn't even born yet. However, this blissful moment is soon interrupted by Dawson and Atwater dragging the man they recognized to be Gregory Bishop up the stairs.

The suspect is yanking himself and shouting profane words as the detectives pull him up the remainder of the stairs. Voight hears –he hears and comes out of his office. The man is in handcuffs, but he's struggling against Atwater and Dawson's tight hold. West and Olinsky are following closely behind them.

"This isn't fair!" The man exclaims, kicking his legs wildly, "I'm innocent! I didn't do what they're saying I did! I swear!"

"Take him to interrogation," Voight ordered, watching as Dawson and Atwater walk –practically drag- the suspect in the direction of the interrogation room.

Olinsky approaches him, "This was found at his house," He sets two clear evidence bags down on Erin's desk since most of the unit is surrounding it. Voight is the one to pick it up; he sighs after spotting a beaded necklace in one bag and a bloodied scalpel in another, "It was in plain sight. I don't think the guy had a chance to hide it. We can tell he wasn't expecting us."

Hank sets the bags back down, "Arrest him, charge him, and then we'll question him," he turns to face Ruzek, "Get the evidence to forensics. We need to see if his prints are on the blade and necklace and we also need to make sure the blood actually came from Burgess."

Ruzek sweeps up the two evidence bags and quickly departs from the unit. He wants this case closed just as bad as everyone else, especially after this asshole attacked Burgess. Ruzek would be happy to personally hand deliver the evidence to forensics. As Voight walks off towards interrogation with Olinsky, Mouse and Halstead go back to their desks, leaving Burgess and Lindsay. The latter of the two kicking off her shoes and leaning back to find Kim looking at her, "You're staring. Say something or stop staring."

Kim smiles, "I guess we won't be having a sleepover after all."

"Halstead will still need your help."

Kim's smile turns into a loud laugh, "You just want to have a slumber party with me!"

"Is it that obvious?" Erin responds, a dimpled grin tugging at her lips.

Burgess shrugs and starts to back away in the direction of her desk, "We caught him."

"Are you sure about that?"

"What?" Kim stops walking and turns around, "You don't think we did? You don't think he's our serial killer? We found evidence linking him to my attack. Soon enough we'll get evidence linking him to killing Trent and all of those other women."

"It's just…" Erin tries to gather her thoughts and form it into coherent words; she runs her hand through her hair, "he's been doing this for a year, if not more, he's not sloppy. He's evaded police all of this time. He takes risks, but he's smart about it. He wouldn't have attacked you in broad daylight to not finish the job and not to mention, he left evidence in plain sight."

"He wasn't expecting us to find him."

"He wouldn't have messaged you inquiring about your tattoo," Erin replies, crossing her arms over her chest, "You don't think this came a little too easy."

Burgess slowly walks back over, "I think because this is what we've all been obsessed with over the past seven months, it's hard to let go and start something else."

"You're probably right," Erin leaned back in her desk chair, "I'm just overthinking it."

"He slipped up. They always make mistakes. The case is closed Erin. We all did good."


	12. Innocence

Since the capture of Gregory Bishop, time seemed to have flown by quickly. It's the thirtieth week of Erin's pregnancy –she's seven and a half months pregnant and is currently on forced maternity leave. Since Gregory's capture, her eyes had gotten better, her marriage has improved and the in-home office has started its transformation into a nursery. The walls have been painted weeks ago. A few days ago Ruzek and Halstead redid the carpet and put up the curtains. And today, Ruzek, Atwater and Mouse are supposed to come over and help Halstead set up the crib in the center of the room, the rocking chair, a changing table and the dresser. Everything else that's left to do afterwards, Erin has dedicated her maternity leave to finishing it.

As she stands in front of the full-length mirror in nothing but her underclothes, her fingers lightly trace the stretchmarks that suddenly formed overnight. She turns left and gets the side profile and then turns right to get the other side. She's almost eight months and she still has two months to go and she feels like she's already as big as a house. Erin grabs a pair of sweatpants and a large shirt to loosely hang over her large stomach. She had two months left to go and she's already ready for this baby to come out. She wants her body back. She wants her life back. As she stares down at the recently made bedspread, her eyes drift to the mobile white bassinet set up next to it. It's positioned on her side of the bed to make nighttime feedings more of a convenience for her. Erin walks barefoot out of the master bedroom and towards the nursery; she doesn't move as fast as she once could with the now protruded baby bump in the way. Lindsay's baby shower was two days ago and every gift they've received is all packed in boxes and stacked inside the nursery. It's waiting to be unpacked. Erin grabs the medium-sized box from on top of the stack of boxes and struggles to place it down in the center of the room. She brushes her hands over her sweatpants before gently and carefully lowering herself down to sit.

Her legs crisscross. She opens the brown box and pulls out each gift bag placed inside. Erin uses the time, the peace and the quiet to either grab a hanger from inside the box to hang an outfit or fold it, depending on what it is. It's mid-October and the Fall time was her absolute favorite season, but now with the large bump preventing her from doing certain tasks, she hardly ever felt like going outside to actually enjoy it. She had spent the next hour folding clothes ranging from dresses, to pants, shirts and onesies. Each piece of clothing was so small and adorable and as Erin placed a yellow dress onto a hanger, her heart fluttered. Her baby will one day wear this. She's so distracted by the bright yellow dress, with a bow around the waist that she doesn't hear Jay come in, "Hey babe," she looks up. He's shoeless; he's dressed in pajama pants and a t-shirt. She had been so distracted she didn't hear him come in or get comfortable.

"Hey," she lays the dress down on top of the other clothes with hangers, "You worked through the night again," when he takes a seat next to her, she glances at his watch, "It's nine am."

"We're behind on a lot of paperwork," he replies, grabbing her ankles to tug them toward his lap, "We have so many cases that require paperwork. You're lucky you're pregnant."

She tosses her head back as he begins massaging the soles of her feet, "I don't feel lucky."

Erin had managed to get through most of the first box, but they still had another box left of clothes to unpack. And not to mention, there are three other boxes of other baby necessities. It felt like this nursery was never going to be done. Neither parent realized how much stuff they would need to have in order to care for a baby. Lindsay leans back on her hands and closes her eyes as Jay's strong fingers press against her feet; the massage felt so good, "I'm surprised you aren't asleep," she peels her eyes open at her husband's statement, "You were texting me at all hours of the night. You didn't get much sleep last night."

"Yeah, well your daughter has a way of kicking me like crazy once I settle down and get comfortable."

"She just gets excited."

"Aren't there other ways to show it?" Erin chuckles.

"So," Jay looks around the room; boxes were still left shut and taped, folded clothes were stacked beside her, and the clothes she placed on hangers were situated between the two, "Do anything productive today?"

"I'm as productive as it gets; I'm making a baby."

Jay laughs and agrees. He couldn't argue with that. It was only the morning time and she did what she could with her lack of energy and sleep. Erin sighs at the feeling of her personal foot massage; it was heaven, and when she starts to settle into the silence of the room, Halstead speaks, "It's still hard to believe there is actually another human being growing inside of you."

"It's only going to be a little while now," When talking about her baby, Erin finds herself setting her hand onto her stomach, especially when the baby sharply kicks against her side, "I can't wait until I can actually hold her. I'm going to be someone's mommy."

"Someone's mommy," Jay repeats.

She sighs, "We need a name."

"Everyone at work was offering suggestions."

"Oh really," Erin asks, smirking, "like what?" She pulls her feet off her husband's lap and crisscrosses her legs.

"Some of them thought Nadia," Jay mentioned and the smile on her face immediately drops; she thought the names offered would be jokes or obvious names that they wouldn't choose, "maybe Olivia, Camille or-" he immediately stops talking when he sees her head shaking.

"I want my baby to have her own name. I'm not against them for middle names, but for her first name, I just…" she starts to grow emotional, "I just want her to have her own name Jay," her voice is breaking and he instantly regrets bringing it up, "It's my baby and she's going to have her own identity. She should have her own name. I want her to have her own name!"

"Okay…" Jay nods, "We'll give her an original name; a name that no one we know has."

"There are so many names out there. How will we know when we choose the right one?"

He wipes the one tear that drops from her eye, "It'll come to you."

"It's not just my decision though."

"It'll come to us," he corrects his earlier statement.

"I want it to be special to us and have meaning."

"And it will," he extends his hand and rubs it over top of her baby bump.

Lindsay leans her head back after silently accepting Jay's response. Since starting their therapy sessions, they've become so much better and stronger. Next week will be their official last session because the two felt that after weeks and weeks of couples counseling, it was time to end it. They needed to get in the hang of things –without therapy- so they can prepare for the baby. After another minute of silence passed between them, Erin reopened her eyes again, "What are your thoughts on a child birthing class?"

"Are you taking Burgess?"

"I assumed I was going to take my husband."

Jay laughs and nods, "Oh yeah, yes, of course. I'll go if you want me to go. I assumed it was something for the expectant mother and her best friend."

"It's a child-birthing class Jay. Mommy, that's me, will birth baby. Daddy, that's you, will help to deliver baby. I don't see how you assumed Burgess was in the mix."

Halstead suppresses a yawn, "Let's do something. I can see you're tired. Want to get some sleep? Or we can get food? Maybe lay on the couch and watch a movie?"

"The truth is I no longer have control of the simple things in life Jay. This baby," her eyes glance down to see his hand rested comfortably on the top of her stomach, "–this little munchkin- decides when I eat, what I eat, when I need to use the restroom and when I need to sleep."

"We can go somewhere."

"I hate going out now. It seems the more pregnant I get, the more strangers smile at me."

"They're probably just happy for you."

"It's still weird."

Without looking at her husband, she feels him get up and depart from the nursery. She had no idea where he disappeared to, but his lack of presence meant he could no longer serve as a distraction. Erin sat up straight and stretched her legs out to resume folding the remainder of clothes. The best method of getting through this forced maternity leave was to keep busy. Voight had started her maternity leave even though she wasn't ready for it. It was an order though, the case is closed and they made a deal. Once the culprit was caught and arrested, her maternity leave should immediately start. She shouldn't complain though. Against his wishes, Voight allowed her to stay on the case until they closed it, until it was saw through because the team started investigating the case together and they wanted to end it together.

The last article of clothing in the first box was folded and set on top of the pile of folded clothes. Jay reenters, just as she tosses the empty box towards the side. He walks in to see Erin using the seal of the window to pull herself to her feet. It's a struggle, and he uses his empty hand to grab her arm and pull her the rest of the way, "Thanks." He lets her arm go to finish eating his potato chips, "What are you doing?"

He follows her line of sight towards his bag of chips, "Eating…"

"Not in the baby's room," she points towards the door and begins motioning for him to leave.

"I'm going, I'm going," Jay laughs with a mouthful of potato chips, "You coming?"

"I'm right behind you."

Halstead finished the remainder of his chips as he led him and his wife down the stairs. He remained close just in case she took a tumble, but it seems he was more worried about that than she was. Her hand was always wrapped around the railing and with each careful step until the bottom, she walked with confidence. Jay tosses his now empty bag of chips into the trash as Erin goes to check the refrigerator, "I need to go to the grocery store. Maybe I'll go tomorrow," Lindsay scanned the inside contents of the refrigerator, "Any word on Gregory Bishop?" She didn't ease into the change of conversation. She abruptly changed it to spark some type of interesting conversation between the two.

"It's out of our hands."

Erin grabs an apple from the fruit bowl, "Do you really think he's responsible?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I don't."

"Babe, it's out of our hands," he approached her from behind as she rinsed off her apple. His arms circled her waist and his chin rested on her shoulder, "We no longer have the case files and we no longer have any control of the case. It's out of our hands. It's up to the state now to see whether or not we have enough sufficient evidence for a conviction."

"But," she turns around in his arms and sighs, "it just doesn't add up," her large belly prevents his arms from fully wrapping itself around her waist, "Jay, spending maternity leave in this house gives me a lot of free time to think. Now hear me out."

"I'm listening…"

"Gregory Bishop is a mechanic," Erin starts, resting her flat palms against his chest, "how can he watch this case? Stay close to this case? He's a mechanic Jay."

"Erin, if that's your biggest piece of evidence then no one will believe you."

"The guy who is responsible for killing those women wouldn't have gotten caught so easily, especially after attacking a detective. He would have either went on the run,"

"Or blended back in with society," Jay responded, nodding along, "He would do whichever he thought would guarantee his freedom the most."

Lindsay added, "He's smart. To message Burgess and inquire about her tattoo the night before attacking her in broad daylight, that's a dumb move. To leave evidence in plain sight at his own house is the work of an amateur. Gregory Bishop is being set up."

"Is this what you do all day while I'm at work?" Jay tilts his head down to smirk at her.

"It's between thinking about this and the nursery," Erin retorts, turning back around in his arms to face the counter, "I can't do much with the nursery until you and the guys put the furniture together. I'm going to hang the clothes that I put on hangers up in the closet, but that's about all I can do," she grabs her apple from the countertop and slides from her husband's embrace.

"Just drop it Erin," Jay calls to her retreating form, "We agreed not to bring work home with us, especially cases that are closed."

She turns around and continues to back away, "It's not closed until there's a conviction."

"The suspect's court date is approaching…"

Erin takes a bite of her apple, "Just, look into it for me babe! Please."

Without further argument, Erin turns back around with her apple in hand and resumes her quest up the staircase, leaving Jay standing in the kitchen. He didn't argue or rebut, but he did kind of silently agree. That case, he desperately wanted to close the door and not look back on it. Tyler left the unit once Gregory Bishop was arrested and transported down to the county jail until his hearing. The prosecution requested for Burgess to testify –in which she immediately agreed- against him. The Intelligence unit had been handed even more cases to take up for all of the missed time while solving their recently closed one. If Jay were to look into this case, he would have to do it in his spare time. His work hours were jam-packed with paperwork, interrogations and seeking out suspects for their three current cases and now his wife wanted him to look back into their recently closed one.

Jay walks up the stairs and reenters the nursery. She's hanging up the last article of clothing. Her finished apple is in the empty box that is now serving its purpose as a trashcan. The folded pile of clothes remained on the pearly white carpeted floor, waiting to be set inside the dresser once he and his friends put it together. Lindsay takes a step back from the closet and her line of vision glances between each yellow, white, pink, purple, red and orange outfit. Every single article of clothing she had for their unborn baby fell into one of those color schemes. Lindsay grumpily turns to face her husband, "Before the baby comes, I may take Burgess to the store with me."

"What's the problem?"

"She needs other colors," Erin annoyingly responds, pushing through each outfit that hangs in her daughter's closet, "It's okay for girls to wear black, brown, gray, blue and green. I mean, my daughter will not be a gender stereotype. We'll by her baby dolls and Barbies, but if she says she wants Legos and race cars, we're getting that too."

"…of course."

"I just don't want her to think that she can't like other stuff because it doesn't fall within her gender. I mean, I'm not like all girls," Erin speaks with strong emotion in her voice and Jay knows that if she keeps talking, she's going to make herself sad, "I like baseball. Voight used to take me and Justin to the park and pitch to us. I like watching football and hockey. I like cracking open a cold beer, unbuttoning my pants and being lazy on the couch. I like doing stereotypical guy things, but that doesn't make me any less of a woman."

"Trust me," Jay gives her a flirtatious wink, "I know you're all woman."

She hits his arm and laughs, "Don't be gross. We're talking about that in reference to our child."

"Don't freak out over this," Halstead gently turns her around to face him; his hands wrapped securely around her upper arms, "We'll get more clothes. We'll get as many black and gray colored clothes as you want. We can get some race cars, action figures and the manliest dirt bike you can think of," this pulls a smile on her face, "just say the word and I'll go find one."

"I don't want any of that," her comment draws confusion onto his face as she wipes her eyes; "I want the clothes, but the toys and stuff, that can wait. I only want that for her if she wants it."

"I got it," Jay nods, finally understanding the point she's trying to make.

"But she's never getting a dirt bike."

"Thank goodness," he released a loud breath, "Whew, I did not want to have to buy a dirt bike."

"Looks like we agreed on our first parenting decision," Erin replies, wrapping her arms around her husband's lower waist. His hands remained wrapped around her upper arms. She laid her head against his hard chest, and quietly listened in on his breathing, "Go get some sleep."

The two draw away from each other as he responds, "I'm fine Erin," he suppresses a yawn.

"You're tired; go to sleep Jay. The guys will be over later and you need your energy."

When Erin witnesses his next yawn, she immediately points in the direction of the door. He smiles while stepping away. Obviously losing the battle, he doesn't put up further argument and he simply leaves the nursery to take a nap in their bedroom. Erin waits to hear the door to the master bedroom shut and grabs the now empty box –beside the finished apple stem inside it- and drags it out of the nursery. She takes it downstairs and leaves it beside the trashcan. Lindsay doesn't waste much time; between now and when Jay wakes up, she has a window of opportunity to look further into this case. One by one, Erin climbs each stair and walks into the direction of the guestroom. She gently shuts the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing over towards the dresser. Since being placed on mandatory maternity leave, she'd been sitting at home, twiddling her thumbs. The last case she worked on bothered her immensely. She couldn't just drop it. It closed too easily. It didn't sit right with her. The guys were drowning in other cases stacked upon them by the state; they didn't have the time or energy to focus on the inconsistencies in this case. Erin did though. She stayed home, doing nothing, giving her plenty of time and opportunity to sit and think. And this case always trickled into her thoughts.

Lindsay rushes over to the empty dresser in the guestroom and pulled open the bottom drawer. She grabs a thick file consisting of copies made of the original files before they were taken. Erin was still investigating the case. She had kind of convinced Jay to look back into it, and if she found any solid evidence, she'll take it to her unit. She didn't want to bring them in unless she had definite proof and hard evidence that would free Gregory Bishop and pinpoint them to the real perpetrator. Erin spreads the file out on the bed and takes a seat against the edge. There's a character profile of Gregory Bishop. He's not a psychopath –Dr. Charles and one other psychologist had sat down and talked with him. He has diagnosed bipolar disorder, but he held no psychopathic tendencies. However, the evidence stacked against him was too strong to let a diagnosis be the only clue as to why he possibly could be innocent.

Gregory Bishop isn't put together. The person they're looking for should be. No evidence was left at the scene; Mr. Bishop was unshaven and unkempt. Based on his character profile, there's no way Gregory Bishop would be able to evade the law for this long, kill seven people as far as they know and leave no evidence –not even a strand of hair from his face- at any of the many crime scenes. Gregory had been in and out of prison, and the person responsible for this may have gotten into trouble with the law, but the unknown perpetrator is most likely steering clear of committing petty offenses and has probably never gone to prison. He won't have a record as an adult, but Mr. Bishop's record was almost a mile long. As Erin continues to read Bishop's character profile that she spent time creating during her maternity leave, her eyes briefly stop on the information about his criminal record. Gregory Bishop had just gotten off parole a week before the last murder occurred. He's been on parole for the last two years, and unless he broke the rules of his parole, he couldn't have possibly left the state to start the spree in Indiana. However, that may be as clear as day to Erin, it won't be for the prosecution. It's not strong enough evidence to clear him. They'll just pose the theory that he remained living in Chicago, traveled to Indiana to kill and then drove back, hoping since the murders happened in another state that it wouldn't be traced back to him. No one's that crazy though. No one would take that big of a risk. If his parole officer found out, he could be sent right back to prison. To the courts, that one piece of evidence will not be big enough to completely free and clear his name, but to Erin it made her even surer of his innocence.

An innocent man was locked up for crimes he did not commit. He could possibly spend the rest of his life –or be sentenced to death- for murders not done by his own hands. Gregory Bishop's first trial was in a week, and Erin needed to find as much evidence proving someone else is responsible. The only way to completely exonerate him is to find the real culprit. She needed to speak to Mr. Bishop; she needed to find out why he was framed, who would want to frame him of all people and when someone had the opportunity to plant evidence in his home. When he was brought in for questioning, she never got the chance to watch the interrogation. Because he was already under arrest, Voight sent her home to start her maternity leave and she couldn't argue. It was their agreement. Gregory was locked up for the murders and the case soon closed afterwards. She had no reason to stay and watch the aftermath. If she doesn't clear his name, it'll be her biggest regret. Gregory Bishop may not have been a saint, but he didn't do this; he's no monster. Her team was too busy being hounded by superiors to have a chance to think about the inconsistencies in this case; once she left, she had ample time to think about it, they didn't. They were immediately given three or four open and active cases to investigate.

Erin is forced to immediately shut the case file and the character profile when she hears the doorbell ring. As fast as her overly pregnant body would allow, she jumps to her feet and shoves the files back into the dresser drawer. The doorbell rings again and again as an impatient person consistently and repeatedly presses against the button. She's forced to quicken her walk; she doesn't want the loud and annoying sound of the doorbell to wake Jay from his much needed and well-deserved nap. Erin grunts as her sore feet wobble down the hallway along the wood floor. As the doorbell rings again, she decides to not even bother to check to see who the nuisance at the other side of the door is; instead she infuriatingly swings it open, "Have you lost your mind? What the hell is your problem?"

Burgess walks into her best friend's home, "What took you so long to answer the door? I almost had to use my spare key."

"That's for emergencies only," Erin reminds, shutting and locking the door, "Now, please tell me what the hell caused for you to ring my doorbell like someone was chasing you?"

"I'm hungry."

If looks could kill, Burgess would be long gone. The expression on Erin's face forces Kim to smile and step away from her overly emotional and furious friend, "You're hungry?"

"You've been home all day. I was hoping you had food."

"You've got to be kidding me Burgess. You're hungry? You're hungry!" Erin shouts, but the immediate reminder of her husband upstairs sleeping silences her soon after. She takes a deep breath and lowers her tone to an appropriate inside voice, "Jay is upstairs sleeping. And you're not a child. You're an adult. You can feed yourself."

"Sorry," Kim quickly responds, throwing her hands into the air, "I thought you were picking up dinner for everyone?" She hated being on Erin's bad side.

"The guys are supposed to come over later to help Halstead set up the rest of the nursery. I was going to pick up pizza as a thank you to them for using their time to set up my baby's bedroom."

Kim rushed to her friend's side with a smile stretched from ear to ear, "I'm willing to help if it means free pizza."

"The more the merrier I guess," Erin shrugs, waving her best friend to follow her up the stairs, "There's a lot to be done before baby Halstead comes. And not to mention, I wouldn't mind a woman looking over and managing the process. They need to take their time and not rush anything. We don't want sloppy and unsafe work."

Burgess follows Lindsay closely up the stairs. She notices how the more her best friend's stomach grows; the more frequent and longer Erin rests her hand upon it. Burgess has never been pregnant, but a part of her wonders does Erin actually know she's doing it –is it all in her subconscious? Erin leads Kim into the nursery and the cluster of unpacked boxes from the baby shower has her immediately overwhelmed. There's a lot to be done. Erin points towards the crib box, "That huge box is the crib; it's the most important because the baby will be in there, sometimes unsupervised. I don't need the crib collapsing and I don't need my however many months she'll be baby to roll out of it. If that happens, I'm coming after all of you personally, starting with you Kim," Burgess swallows hard as Erin points towards the next box, "That's the glider rocking chair; the picture on the box makes it look really comfortable, but that's also very important. My husband and I will be in that chair, sometimes with baby and sometimes without. Same rules for the crib applies to this chair," Erin walks over to the corner of the room, "the last two items I need to be put together are the changing table and the dresser. I don't want anything to fall apart. She'll never be near her dresser so there's no safety concern for that, but the changing table is a different story."

"Erin, I got it. Moral of everything you're telling me is you want a happy and safe baby and happy and safe parents."

Lindsay proudly points at her, "Bingo."

"Come on Mrs. Halstead," Kim retorts, slinging her arm around Lindsay's shoulders, "Let's go raid your fridge. I know you're hungry. And I'm starving. The guys aren't here yet so pizza probably won't be coming for another few hours."

As they walk down the hallway, they're quiet and careful not to wake Halstead. He had been sleep for almost three hours and Erin wanted him to get as much sleep in before the team arrives. Kim removes her arm from around Erin's shoulders as they descend down the staircase; the added weight of her arm draped around her shoulders could potentially do more harm than good for a pregnant woman who suddenly became clumsy when the seven month mark hit. Lindsay takes a seat at the dining room table as Burgess raids the refrigerator for a quick snack to eat; Erin watches her with a smile clear on her face, "How's work?"

Kim looks over her shoulder; her mouth stuffed with grapes, "Work is work. It feels weird not being confined to the bullpen, you know?"

"You've been cleared for physical activity since last week."

Burgess finishes the grapes in her mouth before responding, "I know and it still takes some getting used to. For weeks, I've been confined to the bullpen because the doctor ordered me away from all physical activities. That became my new routine and now I'm back. Watch. After you have that baby and come off of maternity leave, it's going to feel weird jumping back into things, especially work."

"Are you going to eat all my grapes or give me some?"

Burgess laughs, bringing the bag of grapes from the fridge and setting it down onto the middle of the table, "My apologies," Kim pulls out a seat and the two begin eating grapes, "So, question," Kim posed, continuing the second Erin's brow rises in curiosity, "Have you and Jay picked a name yet? I want to know what to call her. I'm tired of saying baby Halstead. And if you ask me, my vote is for Kimberly; it's strong and-"

"I think I can only handle one Kim at a time," Erin remarked, laughing as she pops a grape into her mouth, "And we've only talked about it briefly. No name has been chosen yet."

"Ugh fine…"

"Enough about me," Erin pops two grapes into her mouth, "How's your dating life?"

"Ruzek wants to start over and do this dating thing right."

Erin squints as she studies Kim's face, "From the expression on your face, you don't look too happy. I thought this was what you wanted. I thought you wanted him to take your relationship serious, grow up and do things right."

"I do," Kim admits, face falling into her hands, "I just…I don't want to waste any more time."

Lindsay stands, and grabs the bag of grapes to close it, "I don't know what you're in a rush to get pregnant for," she places the bag of grapes back into the fridge, "being pregnant has me exhausted after doing the simplest of tasks like getting up to pee…or in this case, getting up to put the grapes in the refrigerator."

Burgess leans back in her seat, "Work is lonely without you, you know?"

"Aw, does Kimmy miss little ol'me?"

"Don't call me that," Burgess remarked, rising from her seat, "And yeah, it gets a little boring when my best friend isn't there," she walks over to the cabinet and grabs a wine glass, "and you know what would make our job ten times better," she waits for Erin to walk over, "if we had a wine bar. Just imagine that Lindsay…a fully stocked wine bar."

"Sounds amazing."

Kim leads her friend towards the wine cabinet in the living room, "You think if I ran the idea pass Voight he would agree?"

"No," Erin laughs.

"You're right…maybe you should run the idea pass him."

As they reach the wine cabinet, Kim suddenly notices the baby swing; it's adorable. It's against the wall and is completely brand new. It remains sitting there until it's in need of use. She can only envision the day they're all in the living room, drinking, laughing and having a good time with baby Halstead swinging quite peacefully in her swing. Burgess patiently waits for Erin to choose which wine she didn't mind opening up for her friend to drink. She carefully picked through each bottle and grabbed one she didn't mind wasting. The baby swing in the living room is the only clear sign downstairs that an infant will soon be living here. Erin extends the unopened bottle to Kim, and the latter of the two quickly pops the seal, "Also, I am not going to Voight with your crazy idea."

"If you ask him, he may seriously consider it," Burgess laughs and before Lindsay has the opportunity to respond, the doorbell rings again. She's quick on her feet to get it; it's going on another hour and the more sleep her husband gets, the more well rested he'll be. With a glass full of wine, Kim follows behind her closely, "Is it the guys?"

"They're not supposed to be here for another hour," Erin waddles to the door and takes a peek out of the side window, "Maura," she says in confusion after swinging the front door open.

"Hi Kim. Hi Erin. I'm sorry to drop by unannounced," Amanda's mother apologized, holding a small box and stepping inside the second Lindsay waves for her to come in, "I usually call first, but I didn't know how to reach you. The card you gave me, I lost. I went by the station and the sergeant at the front desk said you were off on maternity leave. She gave me your address after I begged and begged and begged; I hope that's okay. I hope you're not mad."

Erin shakes her head, "No, no of course not. I'm glad you stopped by."

Since stepping inside, Maura finally takes in the full sight of the detective. She's overwhelmed with emotion. This was the detective who took time out of her day to console her, to talk to her and assure her. She felt like she owed everything to Erin; she caught the guy responsible. They're all silent in the hallway. Erin waits for Maura to speak; she watches the older woman press her watery eyes close before reopening them, "You're obviously showing now."

"Yeah," Erin's hand falls to her stomach.

Maura extends the box towards the detective, "I baked you a thank you pie."

Erin takes a hold of the box, "Thank you, that's really sweet of you." She hands it to Kim.

"It's the least I can do."

"Do you want to sit down? I can make some tea."

"Oh no," Maura replied, waving off the offer, "I can't stay long. I just came by to say thank you. I can finally get closure. My baby can finally rest in peace." Her arms swallow Erin into a hug; she manages to wrap the detective securely in her embrace. Her hands were unable to wrap themselves all the way around, but Erin felt the pressure of her hold tighten, "Congratulations on your baby Erin. My husband and I wish you the absolute best of luck. Babies are a handful."

"Thank you," Erin whispers into her ear.

The two slowly pull back. Maura's hands find themselves wrapped around Lindsay's upper arms and she finds it nearly impossible to let go, "Love that baby endlessly."

"I will. I always will. I haven't even met her yet and my heart has already expanded three times bigger for her. I always picture what she's going to look like, what she's going to be like…I don't know. I'm due late December, early January and I'm really excited to meet her."

"You're having a girl," Maura notes the female references in Erin's last statement.

"I am."

"Congratulations again," Maura repeated, unraveling her hands from around Lindsay's upper arms. Burgess remained silent, sipping her wine and observing the scene. She had never heard Erin's defenses come down in reference to her baby. To hear her best friend open her heart up to a woman she hardly knows about her daughter was sweet. It melts her heart. Kim watches the two hug again before Maura leaves the house.

When Erin shuts the door and locks it, she presses her back against it and lets out an exasperated sigh. Her eyes are closed and she's sharply inhaling and exhaling. Kim adjusts her grip around her glass of wine and the box of pie as she walks over, "That's the first time I really heard you express yourself about baby Halstead."

Erin reopens her eyes, "What are you talking about?"

"I mean," She follows Lindsay as she begins walking back into the kitchen, "anything you say about the baby, at least to me, is always about how uncomfortable your pregnancy is, how badly she's treating you and what needs to be done to the nursery."

"Just because I don't talk about it doesn't mean I don't feel it."

Kim sets the pie down onto the counter, "I know, it's just nice to hear this side of you for a chance. Your domestic and maternal side is coming out and I very clearly remember how concerned you were months ago that you didn't have a maternal side."

"Just because I don't talk about it with you doesn't mean I don't talk about it," Erin remarks, irritatingly pulling out a chair to sit, "I talk about it with my husband; her father."

"Hey, I didn't mean to press any buttons. I'm sorry," Kim rushes to her side. She sets a comforting hand onto her friend's shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"It's not you," she brushes Kim's hand away.

"Pregnancy hormones?"

"It's not that either," Erin retorts, rising to her feet, "It's Maura."

"What about her? She hugged and thanked you. She made you an apple pie that looks extremely delicious by the way. What can possibly be the problem?"

"She thanked me for catching her daughter's killer."

"Yeah…and?"

"I honestly don't think we did."

It's Kim's turn to step away. Her eyes squint and she bites against her bottom lip. Erin purposely doesn't look at her as she walks over to the counter; her hands rest against the edge as she leans forward against it. Her eyes glance out of the window above the sink as she continues, "I don't think Gregory Bishop is guilty. And I didn't say anything about it to Maura because she's happy and I didn't want to take that away from her. She lost her daughter. And now an innocent man is probably going to go away for it."

"I thought you were going to look into it."

"I am, but I haven't found anything concrete enough to prove my theory."

"What about-"

"Does Kim live here now?" Jay's comment cuts Burgess off as he walks into the kitchen, "Every time I come home or wake up, Kim is here." He's obviously joking.

Burgess chuckles, "You better get used to it, especially after the baby comes."

Jay crosses through the kitchen, presses a kiss against the back of his wife's head before opening the fridge and grabbing himself a beer. He doesn't realize that he interrupted a conversation. Burgess manages to play it off, but Erin's eyes are still glossed over and focused on staring at a random tree in the backyard. Before he questions her silence, the doorbell rings. He takes a swig of his beer and with his eyes he requests for Kim to get it. She nods and disappears down the hallway seconds later. Halstead sets his beer down and approaches his wife from behind, "Hey," he wraps his arms around her hips as his chin rests against her shoulder, "What are you thinking about?" He pecks the side of her face.

"…two things"

"I'm listening."

"We should get a swing set and maybe a sandbox for the backyard."

Jay's head nods against her shoulder, "Maybe when she's a little older the guys and I can build her a treehouse in that tree over there?" He nods in the direction of the tree.

"I like that."

"Okay, you said two things. That was one…"

She shifts in his hold and turns around in his arms, "Have you given our earlier conversation any further thought?"

"About names?"

"Not about the baby at all," she's looking him in the eye, desperately pleading with him, "About Gregory Bishop…are you going to look into it for me."

"I'll see."

Before Lindsay could rebut his last statement or further argue her point, Burgess reappears in the kitchen with the guys following behind. Each team member gives her a hug and are each in a really good mood. The last time they all saw each other was a few days ago, and with Ruzek's hand pressed against her round belly she knows he's about to make a comment, "I saw you just a few days ago," he removes his hand and takes a step back to observe her fully, "You have gotten huge Erin since then." She smacks his arm, hard, "Ouch."

Jay rolls his eyes, "Shut up man."

"Alright," Lindsay clasps her hands together, "I'm going to go upstairs, grab my keys and get out of here to get you guys some food. Good luck all of you, especially with Jay in charge," She soon disappears up the stairs to get dressed.

Jay doesn't respond; he's taking his leadership role very seriously. He gathers himself, and waves for his friends to follow. They take each step one by one and once they're outside of the nursery, the orders are soon shouted, "Okay, Ruzek and I are going to work on the crib," he leads the team inside the disorganized nursery, "Atwater and Mouse are going to put together the dresser," he points towards the large box in the corner, "Burgess, you can work on unpacking the other boxes. I have no idea where any of that stuff goes." No further orders are said as they divide the tasks and begin working on their assigned duty. Casual conversation is heard down the hallway as Erin walks along the hallway and takes a peek into the nursery.

Lindsay is quiet; she's leaning against the threshold of the door watching her husband, best friend and close friends work on the nursery. Jay is being extra careful putting together the crib; she sees he's reading directions, which is something he never does. She pulls out her cell phone and when she dials their favorite pizza place –that does not deliver- they all notice her presence. She orders in their usual and nods when she gets an estimated time ready for pickup. Lindsay pockets her cell phone and meets Jay's eyes, he's watching her, "Want me to go get it?"

"I really need to get out of the house. I'm getting cabin fever."

Jay looks towards Burgess hanging up the baby's clothes, "How about Kim goes with you?"

"No," Erin simply answers, leaving no room for further argument, "I don't need a babysitter." He knows she's never going to give in and agree. He turns back to the crib and resumes his struggle at putting it together; Erin remains standing under the doorway, "Don't forget the changing table and the glider rocking chair."

"We got this," Jay laughs, waving his wife away.

"Alright, fine," she smiles, and backs away, "I'm out of here."

Jay hollers from the nursery, "Drive safe," and no response follows; he waits and once he hears the front door close, he looks to his friends, "Alright, we need to do this right; everything needs to be perfect for Erin and my baby. Let's finish this before she gets home that way she can relax the rest of her maternity leave. When she gets back, I want all of the boxes unpacked and gone. She's going to love this little surprise."

It had all basically been timed perfectly. Seconds after Erin pulls out of the driveway, Voight, Olinsky and Dawson pull in. After finishing last minute paperwork, they decided to come over to assist in finishing the nursery. Voight used his spare key to let himself and the guys inside; he followed the sounds of the loud voices upstairs, and as expected everyone –minus Erin- was in the nursery accomplishing some sort of task. Halstead brightens up at the sight of them, "Perfect timing. Voight and Al, you two can work on putting together the glider rocking chair, over there to peer out of the window," he directed, pointing Olinsky and his boss towards the large box, "and Dawson, you and Burgess can work on putting together the changing table."

"I was unpacking the boxes," Kim reminds, holding up a nightlight.

"We can come back to that," Jay remarks, watching as she sets the nightlight back into the box, "We need to put together the big stuff first."

The team continued tirelessly working to put together the nursery while Erin goes to grab lunch. Lindsay has always been a careful driver, but now that she's pregnant, she makes a much bigger effort to abide by the rules of the road. When the traffic light turns yellow, she's close enough to make it, but she votes against going through the yellow light and presses down upon the brakes. She uses the opportunity to reach over and dig into her purse; she doesn't need to look, because once her hand fumbles within it, she feels it –her badge. She sighs in relief at remembering to bring it. The light turns green and before the car behind her has the chance to blow its horn, she drives through the intersection. The normal twenty minute drive away from her house to the county jail turned into a thirty-five minute drive through the Chicago lunch-hour traffic. She still had to pick up lunch on her way back for her and the team. Hopefully the traffic dies down by the time she leaves the jail. Before stepping out of the car, Lindsay checks the time; she's been gone for almost an hour; she needs to be back in the car at least in the next twenty minutes.

As Erin walks through the main door of the jail, she greets some of the familiar officers. Other officers she walks pass without a second to speak; she didn't have time to make conversation or have idle chitchat. She needed to be in and out. Erin approaches the front desk, shows her badge and allows for the guard behind the desk to jot down her badge number before she dates, times and signs her name into the visitors' log. Lindsay signs her married name onto the document, before handing back over the pen, "Who are you here to see?" The guard asks, taking the pen from her.

"Gregory Bishop."

The guard begins typing into the computer, "Are you sure he's allowed to have visitors?"

"I was one of the detectives who worked his case. I'm here professionally."

He hands her a visitor's pass, "Word of warning, just know he lawyered up."

"Thanks," Lindsay replies, clipping the visitor's pass onto her shirt. She sees a guard standing to the side of her, waiting to escort her towards Gregory Bishop's cell.

The guard scans his badge and opens the access door to lead her towards the waiting cells. Gregory Bishop's grand jury trial is in a week; at this hearing, they'll rule whether or not they have sufficient evidence to charge him in the murders of seven people. He's been ruled a flight risk and denied bail. Since his arrest, he had been in the jail cell, patiently awaiting trial. The guard scans his badge and leads her through the access door and down the large corridor before turning into the one-cell hallway. The guard scans his badge once again and opens the door leading to the one solo cell, revealing Gregory Bishop lying on his back on the old worn and torn mattress. His feet are kicked up and crossed as his hands rest behind his head. He hears the door open and shut and two sets of feet walk into the concrete room, but he doesn't look to see who they belong to; he doesn't care. Erin approaches the bars and wraps her hands around them, "Mr. Bishop, I'm Detective Lindsay."

Gregory remains staring up at the ceiling, "You can't talk to me without my lawyer present."

"Are you sure about that?"

He shifts in the bed and turns to face her, "Yeah, I'm sure because you'll twist my words to make me look guilty."

"What if I told you that I believe you?" Erin responds, watching as he slowly sits up, "What if I told you that I don't think you did this?" He rises to his feet and begins to walk over; the guard standing in the room starts to walk over as well until Lindsay raises her hand to stop him, "I would like to speak to him alone."

The guard shakes his head, "I don't think that's a good idea." She notices as his eyes drift down towards her noticeable pregnant stomach. Ignoring the badge strapped to her hip, he can't help but not be comfortable with leaving a pregnant woman in the same room as a murder suspect.

"I'm a detective," Erin reminds him, opening her jacket slightly to give him a better view of her badge strapped to the side of her hip, "I know I'm pregnant, but he's unable to get to me. He's in the cell and the cell is locked."

The guard remains hesitant until Gregory looks up at him; his eyes pleading with the correctional officer, "I won't hurt her man. You have my word. I never lay my hands on women and children; they're off limits."

The guard's eyes drift towards Erin, "Please," she whispers, sighing in relief the second his head nodded to give in to her demand.

"I'll be right outside the door and you have five minutes."

She smiles, "Perfect."

Erin watches as the officer steps out of the room, and the second the deadbolt door slammed shut and automatically locked, she turns to face Gregory. Her hands wrap themselves around the bars and her face is as close to it as possible as she mutters, "We have to talk quick. I think you're being setup."

"I do too."

They're standing face to face; the bars of the cell the only barrier between the two, "I've been talking to some of my team to get them to look back into your case. You can't talk to anyone about this though Gregory."

"What about my lawyer?"

"Definitely not your lawyer," Erin avowed, while keeping her voice low and steady; there were cameras in the room, she didn't want anyone watching to pick up on what they're discussing, "Someone is setting you up and until we know who, this conversation stays between us, just know, I'm going to get you out of here." She draws away from the bars.

"Thank you."

Lindsay stops and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I didn't get you out of here yet."

"No," Gregory sighs with a small smile on his face, "thank you for believing me. I was loud and erratic when they first brought me in and arrested me, but that's because I didn't do anything," his eyes are wide and desperate and his grip on the cell bars tighten, "I was on good behavior during my parole; I didn't do this. I couldn't do this. Those women in Indiana, I couldn't do that. I've never left Illinois a day in my life!" He's absolutely pleading for her to believe him, even though she already, and absolutely does, "To most people my criminal record automatically makes me guilty. My two assault charges, the ones I served time for, those were bar fights. I wouldn't hurt no woman detective, I wouldn't kill anyone. I swear. I'm definitely a screw up, but I didn't do what they said I did."

Erin rushes back towards the cell bars, "You don't have to convince me of anything Gregory. I believe you. I can look at you right now and tell you didn't do this."

"Why?"

"…because it doesn't all add up."

Gregory's eyes pleaded with hers, "If you can see that, why didn't your team?"

"They're swamped in other cases. They don't have the free time to think about it," Erin answers, eyes drifting downward towards her obvious baby bump, "I'm supposed to be on maternity leave…that gave me ample amount of time to reflect on your case." She looks back up.

His eyes meet hers, "What are we going to do?"

"I need you to think. Who would want to set you up? Who would have the opportunity to plant evidence at your place?"

He thinks briefly, "No one stands out."

"It's possible you don't even know the person."

"So why me?"

Erin sighs loudly and steps away from the bars, "Maybe because you were an easy target," she crossed her arms over her chest and stomach to the best of her ability, "You messaged a detective on a dating website about her tattoo and the next day she was attacked and he tried to carve her tattoo off. Either you have really unfortunate timing or,"

"I like chicks with tattoos." Gregory interrupted to explain the coincidence, "It was a question on the dating profile. I have twelve tattoos myself. I'm a mechanic, but I'm a part time tattoo artist. I didn't think asking what kind of tattoo she has would be a problem."

"It's not. It's just bad timing."

His brows furrowed and panic lines creased into his forehead, "I didn't do this."

"I believe you, but I have one more question."

"I'll answer it."

"How did you know where her tattoo was?"

Gregory and Erin suddenly hear the guard's access badge being scanned before the door is opened and abruptly closed after he enters. He walks over, "Time is up."

"I didn't ask about the location of her tattoo," he loudly exclaims before she has the chance to leave; he continues talking the moment he sees her stop walking, "I just wanted to know what it was of; she said a butterfly and I told her it represented strength, change and life. After that we talked about my tattoos. I still don't know where her tattoo is; I didn't hurt her."

"I believe you," she asserts, standing at the door, "I have to go, but I'm going to clear your name. I promise. And I never fail on my promises."

The second the door opens, granting her access to leave the room, he calls after her, "Detective Lindsay," his hands are still wrapped around the bars.

"Yes," she turns to face him briefly.

"Thank you."

She nods, "It's my job."

"Not now it isn't. So thank you," Gregory pulls away from the cell bars. He doesn't look over his shoulder as he silently walks back over to the bed. Erin waits until he lays back into the bed before leaving out of the access door. She leads herself back out into the main area and nods for the officer behind the main desk to sign her out.

Erin pushes through the door and the chilly noon air breezes through her opened jacket. Lindsay walks carefully down the stairs as she zips up the forest green coat. The season is autumn and winter was quickly approaching, even with the sun out, the temperature remained low. Erin rushes to her parallel parked car, and quickly unlocks the door. She ordered in the pizza over an hour ago; it should definitely be ready by now and the guys were starving for sure. As Erin sits behind the wheel, she buckles her seat belt and starts the car. She's too distracted to start driving. Her eyes are glazed over as she stares forward. She made him a promise. She shouldn't make promises in this line of work. Lindsay has taken on more than she can physically and emotionally handle. She can't do this alone. Her current pregnant state made it nearly impossible to go back out into the field and investigate. She had promised Gregory that she would clear his name. How could she make that promise when her team isn't even looking into the case? How could she say that to Gregory without even running it pass Voight? Lindsay's palm stressfully hits against her forehead as she releases a loud grunt of frustration. Her thoughts and internal criticism are soon interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing through the car's speakers, "Hi."

"Where are you?" She hears Jay's voice come through the car's speakers; she turns down the volume of his voice, "You've been gone for at least an hour."

Erin stares down at Jay's photo on her cell phone screen, "Can we talk about it later?"

"Is everything okay?" He sounds worried.

"It's going to be."

"What does that mean?"

Erin sets her phone down into the cup holder, "Am I on speaker?"

"No," he replies and she hears a door close behind him.

Lindsay pulls out of the parallel parking spot, "I went to visit Gregory Bishop."

"What?" Jay paces in the master bedroom, using the privacy to speak to his wife freely, "You should have told me. He could be dangerous. Erin, we were going to talk about this later."

"I had to see him. I had to find out what he knew and who would want to frame him."

Jay squeezes the bridge of his nose, "You didn't have to go by yourself."

"I know, but he spoke to me and I promised I was going to clear his name."

"You really think he's innocent."

"I do."

A brief silence falls between the couple until he releases a strangled sigh, "Okay, then we'll talk to the team after we finish the nursery."

"Thank you."

"How long do you think you'll be?"

"…thirty minutes, give or take a few," she answers.

The conversation and the phone call ends. Erin merges into the Chicago traffic in her quest to drive to their favorite pizza restaurant. Halstead is the one to end the call. He suppresses his worries and walks back towards the nursery, a normal expression on his face as he prepares to dive back into putting the last part on the crib. When he enters the room, he sees the white; four-drawer dresser is put together and slid against the wall, positioned in its correct placement. The dresser is the first piece of furniture completed. And now Atwater is assisting Burgess and Dawson on putting together the changing table while Mouse is helping Voight and Olinsky with the remaining pieces of the glider rocking chair. Halstead lifts the last part of the crib and holds it in placement against the crib while Ruzek screws it in, "She'll be here in half an hour."

"We better hurry up then," Burgess responds, handing Dawson the screwdriver he requested.

The last screw is twisted into the crib, "Done." Ruzek drops the tool back into the toolbox.

"Great, you can help us finish up the rocking chair," Olinsky asserts, waving him over.

While Ruzek now spends his time helping with the glider rocking chair, Halstead is getting the crib together. It's pretty simple; he's wrapping the snug fitting infant sheets around the waterproof mattress protector that is now wrapped around the mattress pad. It's a bit confusing, but after trying it out multiple ways, he eventually gets it all in order. And once the last add-on to the crib is added, he sets the white teddy bear down inside it and grabs the empty crib box. Halstead drags the crib box, the empty dresser box and the box that once held the crib bedding and teddy bear out of the room and down the stairs. He wanted to clear up space in the nursery so they have more room to move around. And now with both the crib and the dresser fully complete, his goal to surprise Erin becomes even more real. The room will definitely be done before she gets home. By the time Jay makes it back upstairs, the rocking chair is finished. It's set near the bay window with a clear view of the backyard. Ruzek is taking the empty rocking chair box downstairs to set with the other boxes. When Adam arrives back to the room, Burgess is no longer helping with the changing table; she's currently placing the folded baby clothes into the white dresser. Each drawer as he notices is organized specifically by Kim; the top drawer is for socks, booties, bibs, hats and scratch mittens, the second and third drawers are reserved for the endless amount of onesies and rompers he sees her place inside and the bottom drawer is for the baby's pants and leggings. Her clothing is so small and tiny and the infant is expected to fit in each outfit. If she's that small, then she'll sure be just as fragile. The thought scares Adam; maybe he won't hold her until she's like five.

Ruzek goes over to assist the guys in constructing the confusing changing table. When Burgess finishes putting away every article of clothing –dress, pants, onesies, rompers, shirts- she opens up another box. At the top is a moon-shaped nightlight that she doesn't hesitate to plug into the wall; she turns it off once it illuminates and plays an instrumental melody. It was one of the many items Kim got for her unborn niece and to see it plugged into the outlet, waiting for use made the inevitability of her arrival even more real. As she stands near the wall, she turns around to get a full view of the nursery. Halstead was hanging a mirror up above the dresser while everyone else scrambled to finish the last few parts of the changing table. She sees the white crib, fully finished, with nothing left to do but place an actual baby inside of it. She looks above, no mobile in sight, and she walks over to search through the three remaining boxes. Burgess doesn't see one, "Hey Jay," she sees him set the hammer down after inserting the nail into the wall, "I don't see a mobile. Are you guys getting one?"

"No," Halstead answers, carefully aligning the mirror against the wall, "Call me paranoid," he shrugs and cautiously pulls his hands away from the frame, "but if the baby sleeps in here and it falls on her, we won't know."

"You're definitely paranoid," Burgess laughs, digging into the nearest box and pulling out the next item –it's the baby monitors, "when my niece was born, her parents were the exact same way. You'll definitely be more relaxed by baby number two."

Jay turns to face Kim; he sees her setting the baby monitors and the nanny camera up on the dresser, "I don't think we're having a second. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

The baby monitors and the nanny camera are set up, hooked in and working; Burgess leans the empty diaper bag against the side of the dresser –Kim has no idea what Lindsay wants inside of it, so that portion can be done during her free time, "This baby is going to be an only child with two detectives as parents, a sergeant as a grandfather and a whole unit protecting her…oh gosh, and she's a girl. She has no chance."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jay smirked.

"You're already this paranoid and protective and she's not even here yet, poor her, it's going to get worse. She'll have to call her aunt Kim to come rescue her."

Dawson exclaims, "Done!" He drops the tools back into the toolbox and immediately steps away from the changing table. It was definitely more complex and different than the ones he had for his kids over twelve years ago –he hadn't done this in years.

"The box needs to be taken down," Halstead responds.

"I'll do it," Antonio quickly offered; he needed a break from this room.

With everything built the team once again divides the new tasks. Atwater and Olinsky are unpacking what seems to be an endless amount of diapers and containers of baby wipes into the left under cabinet of the changing table. Whatever doesn't fit, they'll put on the shelf in the closet. While they tend to that, Ruzek and Mouse are placing the extra swaddling blankets, changing pads, hooded bath towels and burp clothes into the right under cabinet. Burgess is still working on her original box; she sets the hand sanitizer on top of the dresser while Dawson reappears, takes the bottles from the box and goes to take them to the kitchen. Halstead works on the same box as Burgess and he removes the breast pump to take and set it into their master bedroom. There's no specific place to set it so he chooses to just place it onto the nightstand on Erin's side of the bed, near the bassinet. Half an hour definitely passed so that meant Erin could be walking in at any moment. They're all moving quickly; when Jay reappears dragging a box, he hands it over to Atwater and Mouse to put together. There are three white shelves needing to be hung above the changing table. They're all scrambling and desperate for more time. Burgess takes the infant bathtub, the baby soap and shampoo to the bathroom down the hall. She neatly puts the items away in the bathroom, before walking back into the nursery to see Ruzek opening the white hamper and setting it in the corner of the baby's closet.

The minutes pass by and the possibility of Erin walking in increases. The shelves are soon placed and hung against the walls; a rattle, three baby books and a few toys are situated on top of them. One clear plastic drawer bin is set on the closet shelf between the boxes of diapers and wipes; inside the bin is baby nail clippers, pacifiers, Q-tips, the rectal thermometer, baby brush, baby powder, lotion and every other additional baby necessity needed. They're almost done. And when Jay receives a text from Erin that she's almost home and to unlock the front door, their movements quicken. Antonio takes the stroller box downstairs to place it inside the hallway closet with the car seat, the infant carrier and the baby bouncer. The baby play mat is folded and placed against the wall in the closet. The baby sling is the last, and it's laid upon the top of the dresser. They're done. Atwater and Mouse collect each and every box from the nursery and takes them downstairs to collect the empty boxes from the hallway to store them inside Mouse's car. He's moving out of his roommate's apartment and he needed boxes; they may not be the normal packing boxes, but each one counts and will suffice.

Everyone else remains in the nursery until Mouse and Atwater comes back. They're all taking in the scene. It's absolutely beautiful; the room is fit for a little girl. They don't want to mess it up, at least not until the baby arrives. Halstead waves for everyone to leave the room; he hits the lights and shuts the door behind him. Now all they have to do is wait… They wait seconds until Mouse and Atwater return from the car and a few minutes afterwards Erin is walking in, balancing four boxes of Chicago's deep dish pizza. She walks down the hallway, and the aroma of the freshly made pizza fills the house. Ruzek takes the boxes from her hands, "Thanks," she brushes her palms together and spots Voight, Olinsky and Dawson leaning against the kitchen counters, "What are you doing here?" She sounds happy to see them.

"We came to help," Dawson answered, taking one of the boxes of pizza from Adam.

"I'm sure Jay appreciated it," Erin replies. She watches the guys and Burgess sit down and open the pizza boxes. Lindsay isn't hungry right now as they place two to three slices on their plates. She sees Jay extend a plate towards her, "No thanks. I'm really not that hungry. I think I'm going to go up to work on more of the nursery."

"Wait," Halstead calls out for her the second he sees her walking towards the staircase, "We actually have a surprise for you."

She quickly turns around, "You do?" She squints her eyes and looks at each of them suspiciously, "I'm not a fan of surprises," the smirk on her face says otherwise, "What is it?"

Jay doesn't respond to her question, he simply walks over, his plate of pizza forgotten, and he takes her hand. The team follows the couple up the stairs, bubbling in anticipation for Erin's reaction to their surprise. Halstead leads his wife up to the closed nursery door; she had no idea what she was about to walk into. His hands covered her eyes while Burgess reached out for the doorknob. With a quick turn and small push, the door opened and they led her inside. They don't walk in much –they want for Erin to see the room in its entirety. Her hands are wrapped around his wrists while his remain over her eyes, "When can I look?"

"…on the count of three," Jay answers, watching as the team fans out around the room, "One…two…"

"Three," she finishes and almost immediately swats his hands away.

The large smile on her face drops at the sight of the finished nursery. Everything is put together. All of the boxes are unpacked. All of the furniture is set up and in its rightful place. Lindsay walks –waddles- further into the room; she looks into each of the dresser draws to find everything neatly folded and placed. Lindsay walks over to the closet –the eyes of her team following every movement. They're scanning her unreadable face for some form of emotion. The entire room –closet included- is immaculately clean. The nursery is ready for the baby. There's absolutely nothing left to do because it has all been done. They hear a sniff come from her direction. Burgess walks over, "Erin," her hand lightly touches her friend's shoulder.

Lindsay turns around and everyone freezes at the sight of tears streaming down her face. She was crying. She wasn't supposed to be crying. Majority of them are guys, and they didn't do crying. They did this out of the kindness of their hearts. It's a possibility that Erin wanted to finish the nursery. They should have asked for her permission; they assumed they were helping her. And the tears started to fall even harder. Before Kim could offer her friend an apology for maybe overstepping any boundaries, Erin throws her arms around her, "Thank you." It's surprising. They all thought they had upset her. Her silence made them nervous, but as she pulls away from Kim and began hugging each team member one by one, she whispered her thanks. Saving the best hug for last, she wraps her arms as tightly around her husband as possible. Her stomach prevented them from getting too close, but it didn't stop her from trying, "Thank you," she steps away and approaches the crib, "You guys are the best team and family a girl could ever have," she reaches into the crib and pulls out the baby's white teddy bear, "I love all of you. This is absolutely the best gift I have ever received."

"Anything for you girl," Mouse winks at her, soon departing from the room to finish eating.

Kim slowly backs away, "Yeah, Mouse is right. We got you. Anything, anything at all."

The team –minus Lindsay, Halstead, Voight and Olinsky- disappears from the nursery to finish making their plates and eating the best pizza Chicago has to offer. Holding the white stuffed animal, Erin goes to sit in the glider rocking chair. With her feet on the detached ottoman part, she holds the bear tightly and carefully rocks back and forth in the chair, "I'll always remember this," her eyes stare down into the bear's eyes, "I always had to find the energy to work on the nursery. I honestly never felt like doing anything. Thank you guys…so much."

Jay pecks her forehead, "Don't mention it. It's for you and the baby." His hand rubs against her round stomach.

Voight hasn't said much since Erin saw the room. He gave her a hug when she proposed one and he smiled any time her eyes met his, other than that, he's been quiet. After the team departed from the room, he closed the door behind them; no one in the nursery seemed to notice. Erin was too distracted by the sight of her dream nursery and Olinsky and Halstead were too preoccupied with taking in Lindsay's reaction. Hank waits until he knows the team is downstairs for sure; laughter from the kitchen fills the halls and makes its way up the stairs, towards the nursery. Voight walks over towards her, "Hey Erin," her wide and bright eyes look up to meet his, "I don't want to ruin the mood."

The brightness in her eyes dull, "What is this about?"

"You went to visit Gregory Bishop," he states, taking a seat against the edge of the window seat.

Her head immediately turns in Jay's direction, "You told him?"

"No."

"You think if one of my detectives –you more specifically- walks in to see a high profile criminal that I wouldn't hear about it. One of the guards called me."

Lindsay hands the bear to her husband, "He's innocent Hank."

"Erin,"

She interrupts, "I've had free time and I've been thinking. None of this adds up and if we-"

"Erin-"

"I promised him I would find the real culprit. He didn't do it. He's innocent."

Voight takes a hold of her hand; he gives it an assuring squeeze, "How about you let us focus on that? Let the team worry about that."

"What?" She turns in the glider to face him, "You mean…you've been looking into the case." She turns from Voight to Halstead, "And you didn't tell me."

"If I told you," it's Hank who responds, not her husband, "you would want to come back to the job. You're on maternity leave. You should be relaxing."

"I won't come back until my leave is over, I promise, I just need to know, how close are you to solving this?" She turns back to face Voight.

And he stands up, "Since it's technically off the record, it's a little harder. The case is closed and they took all of our files."

"I made copies," Erin exclaims, extending her hand so Jay can help her up, "I've also done a character profile of Gregory Bishop, but it's not enough to clear him."

"We'll need all of it." Olinsky replied.

Jay helps Erin up, and she turns to face her boss, "Someone framed him."

"And that's what our focus is on right now," Voight asserted, setting both of his hands onto her shoulders, "He has evidence proving his guilt; we need to find even bigger evidence to prove his innocence."


	13. Contact Lenses

As the wind of the cold winter air stirred through the night, it frosted the windows of cars, chilled bodies to the bone and iced over sidewalks. It was freezing outside due to the early December temperature, but the local Chicago residents were all used to it. It was nothing different. It was the same as all of the previous winters before, but now with the added weight of pregnancy, Erin found herself being less cold and very hot. At thirty five weeks –over eight and a half months- pregnant, Lindsay had assumed the closer she got to her due date, the more relaxed and peaceful her third and last trimester would be. Her hands are curled around the handles of the laundry basket as she carries it out of the master bedroom and towards the washing machine.

With her sore ankles and her swollen feet, the last trimester of her pregnancy had become the absolute struggle. They hurt whether or not she's walking or lying down; Jay's after work massages to her feet, ankles and calves had become a regular thing. With her constant irritated, uncomfortable and absolute moody temper, most of her friends had tried to steer clear of her. Jay had been a blessing and had basically done everything in his power to avoid the wrath of Erin; he was conscientious of her pregnant state, patient with her mood swings and he helps out with any and everything once he's home from work –regardless of whether or not he's tired. Erin walks away from the clothes currently being washed in the machine, and picks up her speed at the sound of her cell phone blaring from the nursery. She manages to wobble to it in time before the call goes to voicemail, "Hello?" She's out of breath and she never got the chance to check the caller id before answering.

"Hey Erin," It's Jay on the other end of the phone, "I've been calling you all day."

"Well, I'm sorry," she rolls her eyes in instant irritation, "I've been quite busy making a fully functioning baby all day, what have you been doing?"

"…investigating Gregory Bishop"

Erin walks out of the nursery and gently closes the door behind her, "Are you actually going to tell me updates on the case?"

"There were no updates to tell."

"It's been over a month," Erin reminds, walking towards the master bedroom, "I promised to stay out of the way, but you all were supposed to keep me in the loop. What's going on? Gregory is still rotting behind bars. His first official trial is tomorrow afternoon. You, the team and Tyler have been underhandedly looking into the case, but you're getting nowhere, right? Is that why you haven't updated me about anything? Is it because there's nothing to update me on?"

"Erin-"

She's getting herself worked up, "Gregory's lawyer wanted him to make a plea deal of life without parole and the death penalty won't be an option, but he turned it down. He turned it down because I promised to clear his name. He knows why, we know why, but his lawyer has no clue. We need to clear his name before he goes down for this."

Lindsay grabs her television remote and turns on the TV. She finds herself watching the news around the same time every night. As she lays back in bed with the cell phone settled between her ear and shoulder, she listens in as Jay tries to change the conversation, "Did you and Annie go shopping today?"

"Why are you changing the topic?"

"…because I need a distraction."

She hears the exhaustion in his voice and chooses to give in to his demand, "We went out for lunch. We went to about three stores and then I came home. I almost got into an argument with an employee at the baby store."

"Oh gosh," Jay chuckled, relaxing back in his seat, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. I'm almost nine months pregnant and she wanted to rub my stomach!" Erin vents loudly; she kicks her bare feet up and struggles to find a comfortable position, "All I said was unless you're the daddy, hands off the belly… I may have said a few other choice words, but I had to get my point across."

"Did you have one of your mood swings?"

She furrows her brows, "Mood swings?" Erin says over the volume of the television, "Why would I have mood swings Jay?" At her response, he automatically regrets his question, "If you're accusing me of having a mood swing because I'm pregnant then I'm going to show you a freaking mood swing."

"Alright, I'm sorry Erin," Jay immediately responds before she can get too worked up, "Forget I said anything."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to get upset, I'm just tired."

"Try to get some rest."

"You're joking right?" She waits for an answer, but continues when one doesn't follow, "You have got to be kidding me! Since I got home, rest has been all I've tried to get. I can't get comfortable. I shift. I have to pee. I get hungry. My back starts to hurt. My feet ache. The baby starts to kick. It's an endless loop Jay and I am here by myself dealing with it all."

"Erin calm down."

She immediately sits up, "Don't tell me to calm down," She slides off the bed and stands up the second she hears the washing machine stop; her eyes glance downward, "I'm a big girl Jay."

"I know babe, but-"

"No, like I mean I'm really big, I can't even see my freaking feet."

Halstead zones out as Erin starts to vent. Since her third trimester started, he had become more of an ear to listen. He could hear her complaining of every aspect of her pregnancy and a part of him wanted to take the pain away; he wanted to rush time so she can be back to her usual –before pregnancy- self with the baby being here and he not having to walk on eggshells around her. As she places each article of clothing into the dryer, she remains on the phone informing her husband about her day, including the heartburn, backache, swollen ankles, the constant kicking of the baby and the fact that her size makes it nearly impossible for her to get comfortable. She slams the dryer door shut and it immediately snaps Jay out of his daze, "Huh?"

She sighs, "You weren't listening were you?" Jay notices that she doesn't sound mad.

"I was…sort of listening."

"You're an amazing husband," hints of sarcasm are evident in her voice.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I'm just tired of looking at this case. We're investigating a case that's technically closed. We can't go out questioning people because this case is closed. All we have is the information we've previously had when the case was open."

"What is Tyler saying?" Erin asks, slowly walking towards the staircase; she holds the banister and carefully takes a seat onto the carpeted stair, "I know Tyler has to be pulling all-nighters on this case. He wants the right guy just as much as all of us. I haven't spoken to him recently, but from working this case with him months ago, he's just as passionate about this as the rest of us."

Jay twirls the pen between his fingers, "I think the case is starting to get to him," Erin remains seated on the stair, pulling at the loose carpet thread, "He has been trying to help us reopen it, but the last two days he hasn't shown up."

A pout appears on her face, "Have any of you spoken to him in the last two days?"

"He's probably fine."

"I should give him a call," she whispers.

"He's a big boy, he'll be fine."

Erin relaxes her feet into the cushiony, white carpet, "I think I'll give him a call anyway," she puts her phone on speaker and sets it down beside her, "This doesn't seem weird to you? If there's anyone who wanted justice more than we did, it's him; he's been adamant and determined; he's been with us almost since day one; he wouldn't just stop working this case because it's hard. Tyler's too cocky to give up. And right now, you all need everyone's help, the more the merrier Jay."

"Detective," Halstead mutters suspiciously.

"…and it wouldn't hurt to keep tabs on everyone."

Lindsay grabs her phone with one hand and the banister with the other. She gathers all of her strength to pull herself to her feet. After wobbling for a few seconds, she gains a good balance and walks up the one stair. Erin takes the phone off speaker and holds it up to her ear, "Since you're missing a detective, I could always come in."

"Yeah, that's not happening," Jay chuckled, immediately turning down the idea, "No one here is going to think that's a good idea."

Her hand falls to her stomach, "Is it because I'm pregnant?"

"It's more because you're a little too moody, everyone's scare of you, even Platt."

"Why?" The break in her voice softens his heart.

He answers carefully; he doesn't want to hurt her feelings, "Everyone here is just a bunch of babies. You basically bit off everyone's heads in this past month and they're afraid."

"I didn't though."

This sparks a laugh from Jay, "You yelled at Ruzek for sneezing into a napkin."

"He was getting sick; I don't need to get sick! I'm pregnant."

"He wasn't getting sick though. If you remember, we were over their apartment and Burgess sprinkled too much pepper when he was right beside her," Jay reminded, earning a shrug from his wife's shoulders.

"Still, I didn't want his germs on me."

Halstead ignores the chattering around him as he continues, "What about when you yelled at Mouse for having his shoes on?"

"They were muddy and I cleaned the house."

"Burgess dropped an egg."

"I cleaned the house Jay. I'm pregnant. Cleaning the house isn't as easy as it sounds."

"Atwater paid you a visit and you shouted at him; he practically ran out the door."

Erin puts him back on speaker, "He came at like ten at night. I finally found a comfortable position, you weren't here and I had to get the door."

"He was getting off and I asked him to check in on you."

"Sounds to me like it was your fault and not mine," the couple both laugh at her response.

"Alright, you win," he takes a seat against the corner of his desk as Olinsky appears with dinner. His face instantly brightens at the sight and smell of pizza filling the bullpen of Intelligence. They were all hungry and it's extremely hard trying to focus and solve a case on an empty stomach. Setting the phone between his ear and shoulder, he's able to use his hands to grab a paper plate and set two slices of pizza onto it.

Erin can hear him chewing; it's a sound that's slowly driving her crazy. She doesn't want to let him know. She wants to stay on the phone with him and keep the company he provides. Her days were spent alone and by the time Jay got home, he was ready for bed. She was bored. She needed the adult conversation. If it meant she had to put up with his loud chewing, then so be it. The news on the television is drowned out by the sound of Jay eating his pizza; she rolls her eyes, "When was the last time you ate?" She tried to ignore it, but it proves to be difficult.

Jay laughs, and uses the closest napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth, "I haven't eaten since breakfast. We've been engrossed in paperwork and this case you've been so adamant about us reopening," the doorbell rings, interrupting his words and breaking his thought, "Are you expecting company?"

"No," Erin replies, "I'll call you back in a minute."

"I can just stay on the phone."

"No," Erin laughs, wanting to reassure him with her words, "I need my hands to be clear as I go down those stairs and you need to finish your pizza."

"You're right," Jay gives in without a second thought; he uses his free hand to indicate for Mouse to bring over the pizza box, "Ask who it is first," he grabs a slice out of the box and takes a large bite out of it, "Don't just open the door either Erin. If you don't know the person, don't answer and call me back."

"Jay, relax. This isn't my first time home alone and it's not my first time answering the door."

"Just be careful…"

Before hanging up, she responds, "Yes dad." They hang up and she tosses her cell phone onto the bed. Her bare feet sink into the carpeted floor as she makes her way out of the master bedroom and towards the staircase. Her hand securely wraps around the banister before taking her first step down –the doorbell rings again.

People always seem to be impatient when standing at her door. She's almost nine months pregnant, home alone and can barely walk ten feet without almost falling over. By the time she reaches the last step, Lindsay hears the doorbell ring for the third time, "I'm coming! Pregnant woman walking here," her swollen ankles hold up her weight, but she wouldn't be surprised if at any given second, they just collapse. Her ankles and feet haven't had a chance to rest since she got home from the store with Annie. She reaches the door, takes a peek out of the side window and sees no one. Lindsay reaches for the door knob and takes a large breath before swinging it open. The freezing temperature and the large gust of wind send a chill down her spine. There's a package on her doorstep and after taking a quick glance around to see no one and no car in sight, Lindsay holds onto the doorknob and lowers herself to grab it. The door is shut and locked seconds afterwards, leaving a shivering Erin powerwalking into the kitchen.

The package is dropped on the dining room table and she stares down at it silently and suspiciously. There's no label, no return address and absolutely no way at figuring out who sent it. Lindsay grabs a knife and cuts across the tape sealing the box closed. She opens the lid to discover crumpled up tissue paper unraveling and falling out of the package. Tissue paper after tissue paper she pulls out of the box until she sees it. Her high-pitched scream fills the walls of her house. She stumbles back and grips onto the edge of the counter to prevent herself from toppling over. It's dead. It's bloody and dead. Lindsay's hand covers her opened mouth as she peeks into the box; it's a dead mouse, strangled with a beaded necklace around its neck. Folded and taped against the inside edge of the box is a note; she rips it off and unfolds it. It's a warning. Painted in the blood of the mouse, it threateningly cautions her to stop investigating the case. She isn't though, but the person behind the gift and the note knows she's part of the reason the team is trying to reopen the case. Erin drops the note.

Her hands are shaking as she backs away from the table; her eyes wide and glossed over until her back hits against the banister. It snaps her back into the present. She focuses on her current situation and grabs the railing to steady her swollen feet as she climbs the staircase. The television is still on, the local news blaring loudly but she drowns it out. Her mind is focused on scanning her bed for her cell phone and when she finds it; her shaking hands scoop it up. She's fighting against an internal struggle; a struggle to remain calm because stress isn't good for the baby, but every ounce of her wants to freak out. She's dialing her husband's number wrong because she can't seem to focus, and when breaking news flashes across the television screen, her attention is pulled towards it. Gregory Bishop; she hears his name announced by the anchor. He's dead. He was found hanging in his cell a few hours ago –it's an apparent suicide.

He was discovered hours ago; her team would have known this since they were the investigators of his case. They would have been notified. Erin knows they knew about Gregory's death; Jay knew and said nothing. Erin takes an overwhelming breath of air as her trembling hand cuts off the television. With each step, her feet almost give out. Her mind is split and focused on different things. One section focused on the dead mouse, another is fixated on her baby while a different part surrounds the thought of Gregory's death. Erin feels a sharp kick and her empty hand immediately settles on the throbbing area. The baby can sense her getting worked up. She's kicking hard because Erin is internally freaking out. The labored breathing she learned in child birthing class isn't working because the kicks seem to quicken. Her daughter can see through it all; the breaths are a joke that neither female take seriously. Erin's only doing it to ease her baby, but when it doesn't seem to work, she immediately stops.

Lindsay reaches the bottom of the stairs and releases the banister. It seemed to take her longer this time to actually reach the bottom. As she swallowed the fear and anger in her dry throat, she snapped a photo of the mouse inside of the box. A second photo of the opened note followed soon after and she instantly sent both pictures to her husband. She was angry and afraid. Afraid of who sent the package to her and angry at her husband for withholding Gregory's death from her. She had been in contact with Gregory Bishop the entire time; he trusted her, not them. Any communication with him had been through her. And now he's dead.

The phone rings seconds after the photo was sent and delivered. For Jay to see the pictures that fast, he must have already been on his phone. She slides her finger across the screen to answer it, "Erin!" His voice is concerned. She can't find the words to respond. Erin rushes to the sink and splashes water onto her face, hoping the cold temperature of water would focus her, "Babe!"

"I'm here," her voice sounds strained.

It's Voight who responds, "Where did you get that?" She can already tell she's on speaker.

"I just received it in the mail."

"What happened?" Jay chimes back into the conversation.

"Why would someone send me a dead mouse?!" The rise and anger in her voice turns her face a dark shade of red; she's fuming, "I'm not hurting anyone! I'm not investigating the case! I'm at home…on maternity leave! Why would this person kill Gregory and send me a mouse?!"

"You heard about Bishop…" Ruzek sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"…it's on the news," Lindsay doesn't sound happy at all.

"I wanted to tell you-"

Voight cuts Jay off, "I wouldn't let him. You need to focus on that baby. You don't need any distractions or any reason to try and weasel your way back onto this case."

"Well you see where that got us, right?! Gregory is dead! Someone sent me a dead rodent with a beaded necklace and a vague threat attached! Leaving me in the dark gets US nowhere Hank!" Her hands slam against the countertop, "What else has been going on that I didn't know about?"

"We received a package earlier today," Halstead begins to inform.

"Let me guess, did it contain a dead mouse?"

"Erin-"

"How come you didn't tell me? I should have been made aware! I'm not planning to work the case, I know that's completely unrealistic in my current condition, but still, I should have known. Fearing that I'll try to get back on this, when all of you know I physically can't, is just an excuse you're telling yourself to justify keeping me in the dark! I could have been prepared for this! What if he had decided to break in instead of leaving a package at the damn door? I have a baby to protect! I'm here alone! Anything could have happened."

Even though she's freaking out, Hank remains calm, "I want you to come to the station."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on…"

"Erin-"

"Don't Erin me Jay!" She retorts in frustration; it's the fear and the anger mixed with every ounce of added pregnancy hormone, "I'm not a child. Don't say my name like I'm some five year old who's about to be reprimanded. You're supposed to keep me in the loop! I may not be working this case, but I'm involved! I'm your detective Hank! I'm your wife Jay! I work with each one of you listening to me right now! I had a right to know!"

"You did," Voight announces his agreement, "And we apologize, but you'll be safer here surrounded by officers than at home by yourself. Come here and we'll fill you in."

"Hank," her voice calms and breaks in a second, "Gregory didn't kill himself. I barely knew him, but he had hope. I promised him that I would clear his name. He had a reason to live."

"We believe you and we told the commander."

Erin closes the box, "Now, can the case be reopened?"

"Yes, but you should know, evidence does seem to prove Gregory did kill himself."

The box is placed and tied inside of a plastic bag, "His death is suspicious. I believed in him. I was going to clear his name; he wouldn't just kill himself."

"Just get to the precinct Erin," she hears Voight's direct order, "we need all hands on deck and we'll all be safer together. I'll see you in a few."

Lindsay grabs her cell phone and begins making her way towards the stairs; she hated how often she needed to go up and down them, "I'm going to throw on my boots and then I'll be leaving out. I'm also going to give Tyler a call. Jay mentioned that he hasn't been in recently and I just want to make sure he hasn't received a threat. That could be the reason why he hasn't shown up…maybe the killer scared him into hiding or giving up on the case, whichever one, I'm going to find out. Gregory deserves it and so do we."

"Okay," Halstead's voice fills her ear as he takes her off speaker, "We'll see you in a few."

The phone call ends the second Erin reaches the bottom stair. From the amount of stair climbing she does daily –and more importantly in this one day alone- she's definitely getting in her cardio. The tip of her toes hit each stair as she rushes up them, however when her right foot presses down against the edge of the stair, it slips. Her foot slips off the stair and before her face and tummy could implant into the ground, she grabs the banister to catch herself. It was frightening. She was going faster than her body allowed. She was running up the stairs like she wasn't pregnant and clumsy. Her foot slipping was due to it being entirely too close to the edge and the white carpet worked against her causing an easily smooth layer of fabric for her foot to slide off. She's in a hurry. She's alone. She's absolutely terrified. However, she needs to slow down and take her time. She takes a long and deep breath, settles her hand on top of her stomach before carefully and gradually walking up the remainder of the stairs. As Lindsay disappears into her bedroom to get dressed for the winter weather, Mouse is at the office, calling his boss and team over to take a look at his computer screen, "I just received the surveillance footage from the jail. It's in black and white, but it's clear. That's good."

"Great," Voight agrees, "Look through it, Gregory's death should have been caught on film."

"Does anyone know whether or not there has been any word from forensics on the box, the mouse and the note?" Halstead asks, scanning the room as each detective shakes their heads.

"No," Burgess verbally answers.

Jay walks back over to his desk; they're all patiently and silently waiting for Mouse to fast forward through the footage. They want to hurry him, but rushed work won't get them anywhere. They can't afford for Mouse to miss anything. As Jay leans back in his desk chair, he stares off in the direction of his wife's desk set directly across from him. Her chair has been empty for over a month now. He's really starting to miss his partner by his side. Atwater has been a great substitute, but no one comes close in comparison to Erin. She was his partner in life and at work. He missed seeing her face every time he looked up from his desk. And now because of her pregnancy, her cheeks got a little chubby, her face filled out and every part of her that fluffed up, made him want her here even more. He loved every stretch mark, every blemish, and every pound of added weight to his wife's body. If Jay could, he would go home, get into bed and cuddle with his wife. Wrap his arm around her bulging stomach and snuggle up against her. His eyes travel from her desk towards the file opened in front of him. It's Gregory Bishop's character profile that Erin created. It seems she has done more for this case during her maternity leave than they have since deciding to dig back into it.

Halstead's eyes glance up to stare at the whiteboard. The photos have been back up for the last month. He thought when they took down the pictures of the victims that he'll never have to see them again. He was wrong. All of the victims, including Trent, were taped up to the board. If it's proven that Gregory Bishop did not kill himself, then the case will definitely be reopened. Before Jay pulls his eyes away from the whiteboard, he watches Olinsky's slow movements. He's taping up the photo of Gregory Bishop and the word suicide with a question mark drawn beside it is written below it. Jay stares at the photo from a distance, "He hung himself with a sheet," he whispers the words low enough so only he can hear, "Someone had to bring the sheet. How could it have possibly gotten there?" His eyes fall to Burgess who is looking at the computer screen from over Mouse's shoulder, "Kim was attacked; someone knew where she lived, the fact that she had an officer outside of her apartment and the location of her tattoo." He stands up and walks over to stare at the computer screen from over Mouse's opposite shoulder. Kim and Jay both silently watched as Mouse forwarded frame by frame in search of the time around Gregory's death.

The cell phone is on speaker, lying on top of her dresser. The ringing of the phone fills her quiet bedroom as she pulls the black leggings up her legs. Her large gray sweater fell to her upper thigh and as Tyler's voicemail played through –him requiring the caller to leave a message- she held onto the dresser in order to slide her feet into her boots. When a beep sounds, she makes a quick decision to leave a message, "Hey Tyler, it's me. Erin. I know we haven't spoken in a while, but give me a call. I'm heading to the precinct soon and you need to come too. It's an emergency. I'm sure you know we're trying to get the case reopened, but you should also know Gregory was found dead today. It's all over the news so you're probably aware," Erin grabs her cell and turns off the lights before finishing up her message, "I heard you haven't been showing up, but we all need you. We need everyone. The victims need you. We need to prevent future killings. We're so close. You can't give up now." She hangs up.

After each source of electricity is turned off, she uses the light from her cell phone to grab her coat thrown over the arm of the couch in the living room. She slides her arms through the sleeves before using the cell light to illuminate the pathway out of the living room and to the front door. Her hands are full; in one, it's her purse and phone and in the other it's her keys. It's freezing outside and she's scrambling to lock the door just as her phone begins ringing. The bottom lock is locked, and she quickly maneuvers to answer the phone, balance it between her shoulder and ear as she switches keys to lock the top latch, "Hello."

"Did you reach him?" It's Voight.

"No, he didn't answer," She responds, twisting the knob to make sure the access into her house is locked, "I'm going to stop by his place since it's on the way to the precinct."

"He's not important Erin."

"We need everyone on deck, remember? And besides, maybe Tyler can pull a few strings in his district to bring in more man power."

"How about I send an officer to his place?"

"…Tyler isn't the best with strangers."

"But he's the best with you?" Voight quirks a brow, "Erin…"

Erin rolls her eyes, "Not like that Hank. He's like…an acquaintance or an associate, maybe a colleague, ugh look Voight, we're not doing this again. His place is on the way. I'll stop there, get him up to speed on what's going on and then I'm coming into the precinct, hopefully with him following right behind me."

"Alright," Voight grunts, making eye contact with Jay, "Okay, but I want you to send me a text when you get to his house and call me once you're leaving it. And don't take your time, get here as soon as possible. I hate you out there by yourself."

"I'm safer on the move."

"Well, you move slow…"

"I'm trying to move as fast as I can," she mutters, waddling along the pathway to her driveway, "It may not be fast according to your standards, but for a woman one month shy of labor, I'm going pretty darn fast. It's amazing really. And not to mention, talking on the phone is only slowing me down."

"Text me and call me."

Erin smirks, "Yes dad." It's a joke she usually reserves for Jay when he gets overprotective, but it worked for Hank too. Even though Voight didn't find it funny, he didn't catch the joke because for all intents and purposes, he was Erin's dad. As she makes her way through the freezing temperature surrounded by darkness –with the occasional light coming from the street lamps- she hears a familiar voice, "Hey Erin!" It's her neighbor, Todd, "I just pulled a double all-nighter."

"Hey!" She greets, unlocking her car door from a distance.

"How's Jay?"

She's in a hurry –an obvious one- and he's making small talk. It's late. It's below freezing outside and he's holding his briefcase, leaning against his car parked in the driveway next to hers, having idle chitchat with her. Erin opens the driver's side door, "He's really good. He's been working a lot, trying to get a few extra dollars in before the baby arrives. How are Maggie and Ethan?" She refers to his wife and son as she tosses her purse onto the passenger seat.

He pushes himself off his car, "They're doing great. My wife actually wanted to invite you and Jay over one day for dinner."

"Oh definitely," Erin responds, sliding into her vehicle.

"We need to make this happen before baby Halstead comes because once the baby gets here, take it from me, you both aren't going to have any free time."

His advice pulls a laugh from her, "Thanks for the warning. And once Maggie sets it up, just tell us when and what to bring."

"Alright," he begins backing up, towards his front door, "I'll relay the message. Maggie is a stay at home mom. We'll work it around mine and Jay's schedule. When is your due date?"

"It seems to keep changing," even with her driver's side door wide open, Erin starts the car; she wants to give her vehicle an opportunity to warm up, "From my last appointment, the doctor gave me a January 2nd due date. That's final. Any time after that, they're going to induce."

Todd's eyes are wide and because of his porch light, Erin can clearly see it, "My wife was induced. You don't want to be induced."

"I heard stories. I read blogs. I don't want a C-section and I don't want to be induced."

"It's December 1st," he says out loud, "Maggie needs to definitely get planning soon. You have about a month to go."

"I'm ready."

Todd chuckles, "Word of advice; enjoy this last month because before you know it, the baby will be here and the baby isn't going anywhere any time soon. Have a goodnight Erin."

Before closing her door, she replies, "You too Todd."

Todd disappears into his home as Erin locks her car doors. The heat is starting to spread through her vehicle and her bones and skin no longer feel frozen and stiff. Her cold and stiff fingers begin loosening up as the heat thaws out her frozen limbs. Erin pulls out of the driveway, heading to her first destination being Tyler's house hopefully being immediately followed by a trip to the district. Currently at the district –on the floor of Intelligence- Mouse is forwarding through the day's footage, with both Halstead and Burgess scanning the screen from over his shoulder. Jay begins tapping against his shoulder with the back of his hand, "Wait. Pause that." Mouse follows directions and freezes the frame. The team walks over to take a look; they see Gregory. They also see the back of a man in a suit. He knows where the surveillance cameras are placed and strategically moves throughout the room. Gregory's hands are wrapped around the bars and he's crying –practically pleading- the video doesn't pick up sound; it sounds muffled and filled with static. Gregory's face is red; he's shaking the bars and calling out.

The team watches as the man moves from their line of sight and disappears. Seconds following, his hand appears over the lens of the camera. The video feed cuts out before any of them could see a face. It's supposed to be another dead end. The team was tired of them and vowed to do whatever possible to let this footage be the lead they need. Hank walks away from Mouse's desk, there's raging anger in each step he takes towards his office, "There's obvious foul play!"

"This can't be a coincidence," Olinsky adds, moving back towards his seat.

"We're looking at this all wrong," Hank asserts, approaching the entrance to his office, "I'm going to make a phone call. Mouse you need to get me an id on that face! Jay," he waits until he has Halstead's attention, "Call Erin and get her here now. She can skip going to Tyler's place!"

She hears her phone ringing, but she's driving. She's rubbing her dry and tired eyes. It's late. She's pulling onto Tyler's street and rubs her eyes again. The feeling of dryness in her eyes is probably coming from her contact lenses. She needs to splash some water on her face. She needs to take her contacts out and put them back in. One may have slipped and it needs readjusting. Lindsay ignores her ringing phone as she maintains control of the steering wheel. The frozen and frosty streets have everyone driving below the normal speed limit. And as she turns onto Tyler's street, the roads seemed to have gotten worse. Her car is creeping down the icy road until it makes a complete stop in front of his house. His lights are on. His car is parked crookedly outside. He's definitely home. Erin grabs her cell phone, notices the two missed calls from her husband and makes a mental note to call him back as she dials Tyler's number.

Lindsay has the phone placed against her ear as she uses her free hand to unbuckle herself. She grabs her purse and slides it under the passenger seat. She had no intention of being inside long and therefore saw no reason to bring in her belongings. When his voicemail plays through, she waits until the beep before leaving a message, "Erin again," she's holding her cell phone and keys as she steps out of the car, "It's probably negative degree weather, I'm pregnant and there's a serial killer on the loose. Yes, you heard me correctly. Gregory Bishop is innocent and we need to find the real killer before he strikes again. So, I'm outside your house, walking up the sidewalk to drag your ass down to the station. There's no time for giving up," she continues; her tone of voice grows stern the more she talks, "And I know we haven't really spoken since the case closed, but this isn't about us right now Tyler. This is about the victims and potential victims if we don't catch this maniac. I'm outside your place. You may not have heard your phone ring, but I'm sure you'll hear me knock." She hangs up.

Erin approaches the red door, clenches her cold hand into a fist and beats against it. Her knuckles turn red the more she knocks, and she was so close to giving up, saying forget it and going back to her car, when she hears his voice shout through the upstairs window, "It's unlocked!"

She looks up to see Tyler peering down at her, "It's freezing out here. You could have said that when I first started knocking."

"Are you coming in or not?" He smirks and she rolls her eyes before stepping inside his warm house. Her hands and knuckles immediately start thawing off; it's soothing and the cold ache in them decreases the more warmth they start to receive. Erin hadn't been in or at his place since the one day, months ago, she unintentionally spent the night. She remains standing by the front door as she waits for Tyler to come downstairs, "I just took a quick shower. I got your voicemail. I'm getting dressed now," he yells from upstairs.

"You could have answered your phone and sent me a text that you received my message. I could have driven straight to the district," she asserts, walking further into his house. Her eyes fall onto a partially open door –it's a small crack, leading to a staircase. Last time she came, the door was closed and locked. She had thought it was the coat closet, but it seems to just be a basement. She pulls her focus away from the nosey temptation she has in regards to the cracked door, "I'll just see you at the station. I need to call my husband back anyway." She turns to leave.

"Wait," he shouts, startling her and causing her phone and keys to slip out of her hands, "What was that noise?" He asks after hearing a loud sound.

"It was my phone and keys! You scared me!" her hand is placed over her heart and she ignores the apology he shouts as she stares down at her belongings laid beside her feet, "You know," she attempts to reach them, "Now that I'm pregnant, when I drop something I truly question whether or not I actually need it."

West's laugh echoes through his house, "I'll just get it for you."

"I have it," she holds onto the side table for support as she scoops her phone and keys up, "Now, why did you shout for me to wait?"

"I'm going to need a ride to the precinct."

Erin's face scrunches as she bites her lip, "And what's wrong with your car?"

"My brakes aren't working and it's dangerous to drive without them on these roads. Come on Erin," he quips, approaching the top of the staircase wearing only a pair of boxers, "Return the favor…from your messages it sounds like you guys need my help. It's the only way I can get there. Help me out."

"Be quick."

Tyler nods and disappears back into his bedroom leaving Erin standing in the hallway of his house. She wipes her eyes again as she ignores the partially open basement door. It's off limits. West probably has some type of embarrassing fetish collection down there that he doesn't want her to see. She shrugs. She's not one to judge. Lindsay rubs her eyes with her free hand as she hears Tyler attempt to make conversation with her from upstairs, "You've gotten so much bigger since the last time I saw you."

Her hand falls to her round belly, "That's usually what happens in pregnancy."

"Ah," he sighed in satisfaction, "I really missed you Erin. I missed these conversations; working with Intelligence hasn't been as fun without you."

"Is that why you stopped showing up?"

She was joking, but Tyler's silence catches her off guard. He's upstairs, buttoning his jeans and staring at his reflection. Did he stop showing up because she went on maternity leave? Or did he stop showing up because the case was technically closed? Maybe a little bit of both, but he couldn't let her know that. He realizes his silence has lasted entirely too long and quickly responds accordingly, "Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, when they brought you back to work on it, why did you stop showing up?"

"Would you feel better if I said it's because I couldn't see your beautiful face every day?"

"You're such a flirt," she rolls her eyes, "Get it out of your system now because it's not happening at the district. And you're one of the only guys I know that would legit flirt with a woman one week away from being nine months pregnant."

"I'm stepfather material."

"Alright, enough," her eyes roll again, "Stop it or I'm leaving without you."

"I stopped coming into work because I received a package…" his serious sentiments tenses her shoulders and pulls for her to take a step forward, "It had a dead rodent inside."

"I got one too."

"I don't want to die."

"It scared you away."

"…if you must put it in those terms, then yes."

She rubs her eyes, "You can't let this threat stop you from doing what's right."

"I figured…which is why I'm coming into work with you. I can't let an oversized pregnant woman make me look bad."

"Rude."

"I mean nothing cruel by it," he slides a shirt on over his head.

"…doesn't make it any less offensive," Erin remarks, running her fingers through her hair.

"You're just stubborn," he announces, tying his tennis shoes, "If anyone should want to stop investigating, it should be you. You're pregnant. You have a baby to worry about."

"I'm no longer investigating the case and that's why I'm heading to the precinct because I'm worrying about my baby," she approaches the bottom of the staircase and leans against the railing, "That's the safest place for all of us right now, especially after that threat."

"I doubt it." His words are whispered under his breath.

Detective West appears at the top of the stairs; he's peering down below at her and their eyes meet. She sees he's fully dressed with shoes on and basically ready to go. However, he doesn't move. He's watching her rub circles into her belly until he hears her speak, "Do you always take showers this late at night?"

"Sometimes…just after I get my hands a little dirty," he shrugs, his eyes focus back on the round rubbing motions her hand does against her stomach, "You're going to the district to keep safe. Do you really think this man will hurt your baby?"

Her hand stops and drops down to her side, "I don't know, but I don't want to give him the chance to try anything. It's not worth risking her safety."

"Her?"

Erin nods, "Yes, her."

"I hope she inherits your eyes."

Lindsay blushes, "You and Jay both. Everything I'm doing right now, I'm doing for her. I know it's completely unrealistic to think the world will suddenly change for the better the moment you have a child, but I figure each criminal we take off the streets is one step closer to making that happen. This guy, he targets females, he targets women who resemble me, my daughter will eventually fall into that category. Talking with Maura puts things in perspective. If not for those victims, he needs to be put away for all of the other daughters and moms out there."

"You're going back to the precinct just to dive back into this case."

"No, I'm going back to stay out of harm's way. I'm going back so Voight and my husband won't have to worry about me and can focus completely on this case. I don't want to be next."

"Maybe it's your pregnancy that made him turn his attention elsewhere."

She ignores the baby's sharp kick to her side, "I don't understand."

"Remember the gifts you received?" He states it in the form of a question and when she nods, he continues, "and then suddenly they stopped and Burgess was the next one to receive one?"

Erin rubs her eyes until her vision is temporarily blurred; she needs to fix her contact, "Do you honestly think I was a target?" She fans her dry eyes, "Do you really think because of my baby he chose someone else?"

"Could be…" Tyler shrugs, stepping away from the railing, "Maybe this man isn't all bad."

"Yeah," she spats, rolling her eyes, "He's worse and we need to get to the precinct before they call back again. What's taking you so long?"

"Let me pack up my briefcase, turn off all the lights up here and then I'll be ready." He disappears back into the master bedroom.

"While you do that," she shouts up the stairs, "where's your restroom? I want to look at my eyes; it feels like one of my contact lenses is giving me problems. I think one shifted."

At her posed question, she's met with immediate silence. No words or sounds are uttered in response. Erin waits at the bottom of the staircase for a reply. She wonders whether or not he even heard her. He did though. Tyler is staring at the mirror, his opened briefcase resting on the bed behind him. Erin wears contact lenses. And that's all he can think about; he hears her calling out his name, but all he's picturing is the eyes he grew to love not even belonging to her. He hears her voice grow louder and he's forced to reply, "It's down the hallway to the left of the kitchen." He gets straight to the point and focuses back in on his reflection. As she heads to the bathroom, she tries to make conversation, but he finds himself unable to respond.

The hallway door remains cracked open. She ignores it and continues her quest towards the restroom. Erin sets her phone and keys down onto the countertop before entering the bathroom. She gives up on making further conversation, deeming his silence an indication of a mood swing. Lindsay hits the lights, washes her hands before removing and reapplying the shifted eye contact. Last night she made the mistake of falling asleep with them in. It wasn't intentional. She had just been so tired and exhausted from making a baby all day. When her contact is reinserted, she splashes cold water onto her face. She stares at the drops of water dripping down her face and reapplies another splash of water; it's rejuvenating and energizing. It snaps her out of her daze and focuses her. She needs to get to the precinct. The team is brainstorming. Voight had just gotten off the phone and walks out of his office to inform the team, "I just got off the phone with Gregory's lawyer," he announces, earning the attention of everyone in the breakroom, "From the conversation the lawyer had with Gregory, he had absolutely no one in his life who would visit him. No relatives and no friends. No idea who that could have been in the footage."

Dawson stands up, "Sergeant, only law enforcement and lawyers have access to the jail after hours and because he's such a high profile criminal the public are unable to visit him."

It clicks for Voight. It had completely slipped from his mind. He rushes over to Mouse's desk, "Call the county jail and find out the list of people who had access and who had signed in around the time of Gregory's death." Mouse nods his head and grabs his desk phone to make the call.

"Whoever did this probably didn't sign in under Gregory's name as a visitor; that would be a rookie mistake and this guy is far from being a rookie," Halstead remarks, subconsciously twirling a pen around between his fingers, "He probably made it seem like he was visiting another inmate."

With his arms crossed and his hands cupping his elbows, Ruzek approaches the whiteboard, "Looking back at this case and reinvestigating it, we don't have to look at Trent or the women he has killed," he turns to face the team, "Gregory's death should be enough. Gregory's death is going to lead us to the real killer."

"We should have stuck to our gut," Olinsky growls, taking a seat against the corner of Erin's desk, "We originally were going to look into law enforcement, but we didn't. If we did-"

Voight interrupted, "Now isn't the time for that; now is the time for action and results."

Lindsay opens the door and steps out of the restroom. Her eyes felt better and her face felt refreshed. She quietly closes the door behind her after shutting off the bathroom's light. Erin lifts her keys and phone off the counter to see two more additional missed calls from Jay. She sends him a short text, informing him that she was safe at Tyler's house and they should be leaving in the next five minutes. Jay's response was quick and simple. He said okay. She stands in the kitchen, and glances around; it was her first time actually taking in his house. It was still stunningly clean, but this time there was a difference, there were a few boxes packed and she couldn't help but silently question whether or not he's planning to leave.

Erin glances towards the staircase; it's quiet upstairs. She has absolutely no idea what's happening up there; he's too quiet. Lindsay holds her keys in one hand and her phone in the other. She wobbles; her aching feet pressed against the hardwood floor down the hallway back towards the front door. The door is still cracked open; she tries to fight the curiosity within her. It wasn't her place. It's not her place to snoop; it's not her place to go to glance into a room that's off limits. Blame it on her pregnancy brain or the detective side of her, but she opens the door anyway. She holds onto the railing as she cautiously walks down each stair. When she reaches the bottom, she uses her cell phone light to illuminate the room. It doesn't offer much light, but she sees a string to which she pulls that lightens up an unshielded lightbulb in the basement.

Her mouth is agape. Her eyes are wide. She sees a wall of hooks holding up party beads. Five hooks are empty; they're missing beads. She backs away until her body presses against a shelf. Erin's keys drop and she immediately turns around; her eyes are met with a row of jars. Jars of body parts with each jar labeled with a victim's name. There's Michelle's tongue and lips, Claire's hair, Linda's fingers, Amanda's breasts, Lucy's teeth, Shelby's nose and Trent's vocal cords. They're the missing body parts of the women –of the victims. However, what shocks her most, what sends a shiver through her body are the next two jars; they're empty, but a name is written on each of them. One of the empty jars says Kimberly and the other says Erin. Her cell phone is in hand and with her now free hand she wraps it around her stomach as she rushes towards the stairs. Lindsay is limping. Her swollen feet ache and her large stomach makes it nearly impossible to run. She's trying though; she's pushing through.

West had been manipulating her this whole time. He's a textbook psychopath. He is who Dr. Charles was describing. He's charming, smooth, laid-back and slick. Erin turns off the light. She needs to make it resemble how she found it. Tyler's very confident in his words, self-assured, opinionated and extremely cocky. The baby senses her stress and fear and begins kicking. It's coming at a faster and faster rate; her foot is hitting against the same area and it hurts. A lot. West is arrogant, he thinks he's better than others and every emotion he probably felt was most likely fictitious and mimicked. He's a master manipulator and a pathological liar. He used his charm and his sad childhood to weasel his way into her heart! And she fell for it. She believed him. She empathized with him because she knew how it felt to not come from a great family and make something of yourself despite the odds being stacked against you. She missed all the signs. He sent her pink roses. His glove compartment was stuffed with party beads. He's a detective; he most likely purposely inserted himself into this case only to observe the chaos he caused. He gets off on this. He was literally right in front of them. The killer participated in the kill, the cover up and the investigation. And none of them saw it.

With each stair she climbs, the speed of her heart increases. She thought he had psychopathic tendencies and she should have stuck with her gut. Erin sees the door wide open, waiting for her to reach it, but it seems she's unable to go fast enough. Dr. Charles said their killer had behavioral problems in his youth; Tyler did. He's confident in his ability to sweep women off their feet; Tyler definitely is. He'll do everything in his power to maintain control, to stay free and get out of this alive. And as Erin reaches the top stair, prepared to suppress her loud breathing and act casual enough to get out of the house, he appears. He's standing in front of her, intentionally blocking her path to the hallway. Fear is evident in her eyes and he reads it like an opened book. She's standing at the top of the stairs, and knowing she's corned, she dials Halstead's number to which he snatches her phone from her and throws it down the stairs, "What's going on?" It's a rhetorical question that he already knows the answer to, "Erin, what are you doing?" He repeats it again, waiting patiently to see if she had the courage to lie to him.

"I got a little lost." She says in one breath, attempting to swallow the fear tightening her throat.

"I told you that room is off limits." He doesn't sound angry. Maybe she has a chance.

"Tyler I'm-"

And maybe she doesn't. He shoves her. Tyler angrily presses both hands against her chest and musters up all the strength in his body to push her off the highest stair. He slams the basement door closed behind him. It practically shakes the hinges. And as she hits each of the wooden stairs on her way down, he steps down one, watching her try to attempt and unfortunately fail to grab the railing to ease the pressure of her fall only for it to slip out of her hands after each desperate try. She continues to roll and fall until her body slams hard against the tiled floor. He hears a hard smack. Lying face-down completely still at the bottom of the stairs, Tyler walks down. He steps over her body, over the blood starting to spread beneath her stomach and pulls the string to light the one bulb in the basement. Maybe she still has a chance to get out of this, at least for her baby's sake. And maybe she doesn't. She's unconscious. Her arms are open, palms down and spread apart. Impact was made on her stomach; it loosened her fall and prevented her head from smacking too hard against the ground. Her cell phone buzzes beside her, Jay's name and a photo of him lighting up the cracked screen. He's at the district, waiting for her to pick up. And seconds after his call, a notification sounds on her phone signaling a voicemail message waiting to be heard. He pockets his cell phone and returns back to his desk, patiently awaiting the arrival of his wife.


	14. Cat and Mouse

She stirs –her vision cloudy and distorted and the pain coursing through her body takes time to register. She groans –the side of her face numb and pressed down against the cold tiled floor. She opens her eyes –the bright light of the lightbulb shining above her blinds and dulls her already blurred vision. She whimpers –it feels like her head was hit with a brick multiple times. She cries out –it feels like her body is full of lead; she can't seem to move her arms or legs. She's slowly and gradually gaining consciousness –the side of her tight and swelling face laid flat against the concrete. She coughs up blood and she remains too weak to sit up; she stays put, she stays and listens in as Tyler rants and moves throughout the basement. His words are blended together; he's rambling and she hears things being slammed down and pushed around.

"I killed Trent," he's talking to her as he clears off the strap-down chair; he's shouting, but he doesn't know she's conscious, he thinks he's talking to an unconscious woman, "I snuck out of the house while you were sleeping and killed him. I used you as my alibi. You never suspected a thing Erin and that's because I was just that good!" He unstraps the arm restraints before moving to unlatch the head strap that holds the head securely against the seat, "I attacked him to defend your honor, to defend the pregnant woman, to defend the future mother's honor," he speaks with such confidence and calmness that it would creep anyone out; he's talking about killing people in the same voice that one would talk about the weather, Tyler moves to unstrap the leg restraints, "He verbally disrespected you. It's only right that I took out his vocal cords. Due to his rude talking, that's an imperfection Erin."

She doesn't respond –the longer she lays there, the more she starts to register her surroundings and what happened in the last thirty minutes. Her arms are spread wide and she slowly pulls them towards her –they retract in slowly to ease the aching pain coursing through every part of her body that impact was made with, there's definitely going to be bruising. Lindsay groans –it hurts to move, but she does it anyway to bring her hands closer towards her face. Tyler remains shouting, setting things down loudly; he approaches the shelf of jars and grabs the one with Erin's name written across the front, "Perfection is such an important thing. Lucy Grant; my first Indianapolis girl, yeah I took out her teeth when I found out she had teeth implants," he unscrews the lid off the jar, "I didn't know which teeth were real and which were fake and I didn't have the time to figure it out so I just took all of them," he says it with such nonchalance, "I take what I see as their imperfection and I make them perfect. I make them whole and then I leave their bodies peacefully resting in a garden or a park with the most beautiful pink roses anyone could imagine. I do all of that for them." The opened jar is slammed down next to the chair.

She lifts her head –it's the first time she does so since falling down the stairs. She lifts it before immediately lowering it back down to the ground. It was straining. And it really hurt. She coughs up a few more droplets of blood that stains her teeth before trying to lift her head again. It was a fruitless attempt because the side of her face that made such a sharp impact with the ground was starting to swell up, bruise and discolor. She remains lying against the ground –her hands patting themselves around her body, looking for other signs of injury. And she feels it. She feels a wet substance soaking up the front of her shirt and the inner thigh area of her leggings. It feels like her heart stops, "No," her groan comes out as a shortness of breath. She's laying face-down on her large stomach and uses what little energy she has left to roll over onto her back; it's the most she can do to relieve the pressure and the weight off her pregnant belly. The blood that was once settled beneath her is now stained and embedded into the fabric of her sweater and the material clung to her legs. The material covering her inner thigh was stained with blood and while she wanted to cry and scream and just raise hell, now wasn't the time.

She's lying on her back –her hair spread wildly around her head. One side of her face feels normal while the other side feels like someone used it as a punching bag. She can see Tyler now; he's holding her cell phone, typing a message onto the cracked screen, "You know Shelby Ward, that cop," he continues his ranting and raving as his fingers aggressively press down against the touchscreen, "I didn't even want her. She was a rookie cop. She was getting too close. And she was being nosey. It was like the icing on the cake when I found out she got a nose job, ha!" he laughs loudly, shoving her cell phone into his pocket, "Oh, just FYI, I know that you always tell your husband where you're going so you don't have to worry about that. I sent him a message, pretending to be you I said you weren't feeling too well and you went home to get in bed and get some well-deserved and much needed rest. After all, you're making a baby."

She stays quiet –lying on her back and reaching out for the wooden railing. She grabs it and uses it to sit herself up –it hurts a lot, but she fights through the pain. She needs to get out of here. Sitting in an upright position, the bottom stair pressed against her back and holding her up. She's too weak to move. Her vision is starting to even out and clear up with each second that passes, but her head still remains dazed and she's trying to gather her thoughts. Tyler isn't worried. As he prepares the room, he keeps an eye on her. Even if she didn't take that fall down the stairs, he would still be faster than her. Her current state made it difficult for her to run and climb stairs faster than a physically fit man. Tyler goes over to the wooden cabinet and opens it, "Where were we? Ah, yes, after killing a cop, I knew I needed to leave. I didn't want go too far, but I needed to go far enough, which is how I ended up here, in the beautiful city of Chicago," he pulls out each instrument needed –a scalpel, scissors, and a black sharpie marker, "I wanted to stop. I always want to stop. I know that what I'm doing is wrong, but it's like an itch that I can't scratch; it's like the only way I can scratch that itch is by killing."

She hears her phone ping –her head instinctively turns into the direction. She sees Tyler reach into his pocket and pull out her cellular device. He reads it; Voight is ordering for her to come in. Instead of responding again, Tyler throws the phone onto the countertop just as it starts to vibrate; he's calling her. And if it wasn't for her throbbing face, she would smile. Jay's not going to give up. He'll keep calling and texting. If he gets too worried, he'll have Mouse trace her phone. It's only a certain amount of time before her lack of responses has him completely out of his mind and concerned. She just needed to last until then…her baby needed to be okay and healthy until then. Erin leans her head back against the railing and releases a trembling breath as Tyler continues to talk –he continues to rant as if she's not even in the room, "Then we have Michelle Danvers, she was my first girl here; she was a recovering alcoholic so it was only right that after she broke her sobriety, I take her tongue. And then I found out her lips had Botox, it was just too many imperfections for one person to have; two weeks, that was her time."

She looks down to her leggings –she's spotting blood, there's vaginal bleeding. She needs a hospital. She needs a doctor. Erin is controlling her breathing; she's practicing the labored breaths she learned in child-birthing class. It's a calming tactic to control her racing heart. Erin reaches for the railing and uses as much strength as possible to holster herself up and sit upon the bottom stair. One step at a time, that's all she needs to do. After sitting upon the bottom stair, she's forced to collect herself –control her labored breaths, check on the amount of spotting blood and rub the ache in her lower back. Meanwhile, Tyler is still ranting as he cleans off each instrument pulled from the cabinet, "Okay, so we went over Trent, Michelle, Shelby and Lucy and now we're onto Claire. Sweet Claire, she was so close to perfection, I mean, she was the closest person to perfection that has ever existed, but then she had to go and dye her hair brunette and add extensions so, I scalped off every strand of hair from her imperfect head."

She pulls onto the railing and lifts herself to move and sit on top of the second stair from the bottom. There's a dull ache in her lower back, it's one that doesn't need addressing anytime soon. It can wait because there is suddenly a sharp burst of pain spreading through her loins. It's agonizing. She wants to suppress the scream; she tries so hard, uses every fiber in her being to do so, but is soon forced to spread her mouth wide and scream. Her hand wraps around the railing and instead of using it to pull herself up to the next step, she uses it to squeeze tight and try to release some of the pain. Tyler doesn't even look her way. He hears her screaming and he continues to prep the chair, the tools and the jar while continuing his rant, "And then up next we have Ms. Linda Foster, I usually don't date women older than myself but I figured I didn't have any luck with women younger than me so older I went," her screams increase in volume, forcing him to speak even louder, "She was in the middle of a divorce, or so I thought. And after sleeping together, she and her husband decided to try and work things out. That was just my luck, huh?" He turns to look in her direction. Her screams have quieted.

She's sweating. The pain that was once shooting through her stomach has now settled. The lower back pain remains. She feels pressure in her lower abdomen mixed with abdominal pain. She wasn't a doctor and she had no idea what was going on, but she needed to get out of here and get to a hospital. The more time that passes without help, the higher the chance her baby may not make it out of here. She could already be gone, but it was a thought that Erin refused to believe. Her daughter couldn't have been gone. Breathing loudly to get through the abdominal pain, she blinks through the tears welling in her eyes. Her teeth tear into her bottom lip as another sharp pain shoots through her abdomen, meanwhile, Tyler is still venting, "Amanda Scott was my last. As you so intelligently investigated and discovered that I took her breasts because they weren't real," his eyes glance over towards the jar with Amanda written across the front, "I don't choose to do this. It's innate. I was born to do this. It's a personality trait, an addiction and a coping mechanism. It's everything. I want to date and the time it takes me to kill each one of them varies depending on when I find out their imperfections. I want the perfect woman. That's not asking for too much. I date and the second I find out an imperfection, I kill them."

She screams again; this one is much louder than the last. Her nails dig into her hair. The pain, it's too much. She thinks she's losing the baby. She thinks she's having a late-term miscarriage and the thought breaks her heart. It breaks every single part of her being. She can't lose this little girl. Erin almost went off the hinges after Nadia's death; she barely crawled out of the hole she fell in. If this baby dies, they'll be no rescuing her. They'll be no reason, no purpose to do anything. She has to get out of here. If her baby doesn't make it, she at least needs to know that she tried absolutely everything in her power to give her daughter a fighting chance. She's screaming as the abdominal pain and the pelvic pressure courses through her body. Tyler remains talking, his voice rising in volume to drown out her screams, "I assume you now know that I was the one who tried to take Kim's tattoo. I'm also the one to kill Gregory…now that was exhilarating. The rush," his head goes back and when he raises it, he's smiling, "Dr. Charles was right about one thing; I'm rash, unpredictable and I do enjoy taking my fair share of chances. I just think Gregory's my favorite, it wasn't planned until the last minute and I was in a building full of correctional and police officers. Who wouldn't get an adrenaline rush from that?"

The pain in her abdomen increases in magnitude. She doesn't know where –if there's possibly any place- to put her hands. She needs something to squeeze, something to bite down on and hit. Her vision is clear –it's no longer blurred and cloudy. The pain lasts longer this time, forcing her to slide her hand beneath her shirt to clench her stomach. She grabs it tightly. She shuts her eyes close and she leans forward. It hurts so much. She needs to get out of here. The pain starts to settle again and once it's gone for good, she needs to make a run for it. It's her best chance. Jay isn't here. Voight isn't here. Kim isn't here. No one's here but her and Tyler. The pain in her stomach settles down, the pressure in her pelvic area and the ache in her lower back remains present though. Lindsay's on the third stair and the second she silently counts to three and turns to run, she feels his hand –his killer hand- wrap around the back of her neck.

"Please," she begs and he finally witnesses a side of her that he has never seen.

Tyler doesn't hesitate to pull her back to the ground. She's back where she initially landed; she's sitting beside the pool of blood she left after her tumble down the stairs. Tyler looks at her, her plea completely forgotten, and grabs her legs. She screams and squirms, screams and squirms as he drags her towards the restraining chair; her body sliding through the blood pool causing for the blood to lead a long trail of smeared blood behind her, "Tyler, please," the pain starts coming back. Her body is weak as she screams out loud, thrashing her arms in an attempt to reach for something to grab. She needs something to squeeze. Erin is in pain; she's spotting, experiencing abdominal pain, pelvic pressure, and back pain and now on top of that, she has a headache.

He stops dragging her; he drops her legs and lowers down to be eye leveled with the screaming woman. And with the calmest expression and voice, he asks, "Do you think you're able to stand and walk? It's just a couple of feet." She doesn't answer and instead pushes him away. Her hands make contact with his face and she starts hitting him. She hits him until he stands back up.

"Leave me alone!"

He immediately steps towards her, "What?" Tyler begins casually pacing back and forth in front of her, "You think I like this! You think I'm okay with this? I'm not! You want to know what kills me?!" He slides onto his knees and cups her red and sweaty face with his hands, "What is killing me Erin is the fact that I can't stop thinking about you. Knowing that I can't have you, that you're some forbidden fruit that hasn't even given me a second thought, it's insulting."

Her bottom lip trembles, "Please let me go."

Her body is in too much pain to focus on the amount of pressure his hand is currently pressing against the injured side of her face. His hands drop from her face and he sees her try to slide away. The chair behind her makes it impossible to go backwards so she goes towards the side. Erin's arm clenches around her stomach and she opens her mouth countless amount of times to tell him that she needs a hospital. She doesn't care about what happens to her; all she cares about is protecting her baby. Keeping her daughter safe and out of harm's way is her goal, it's her wish and as of right now –this current moment- it's her purpose. Tyler doesn't listen though; he doesn't want to listen because all he continues to do is talk over her. He leans forward to brush a strand of hair out of her face, but she instinctively turns her head away, "Don't touch me."

He ignores her demand and pushes the strand of hair behind her ear anyway, "I'm not all bad. It's not my fault. It took me killing all of these women for my case to go to a unit that is even remotely competent," he grabs the wooden stool and sets it beside the chair, "I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to do any of it, but I couldn't stop. And I liked the challenge of evading the law; I am the law and I avoided it," he's cocky and in complete denial, "My words held weight. I gave you a fake description and you all believed it. That's the fun part. The scary part is this urge is like a disease that won't go away. Killing is the only temporary cure for it."

"You're sick," she says in one breath.

"Don't you think I know that?" His voice remains even calmer; it's frightening how leveled and composed it is, "I cover up my disease with my confidence. I can only go so long without killing. It gives me a natural high. I'm confident, I'm poised, I'm together and I am a badass but then urges come and all of that starts to crumble and crash. It all starts to break so I have to kill again to get it back," he releases a loud breath of air as his eyes scan the row of filled jars, "I don't want to do this, but I have to though."

She grunts as she feels more pressure gather in her lower abdomen, "Why do you torture them?" Her words are strained as she speaks through the pain, "Why keep their body parts?"

"I like the sound of screams." The patience and the absolute serenity in his voice creeps her out.

However the pain remains, and increases in intensity, "Tyler, I really need-"

"I keep the body parts so I'll never forget them." He cuts her off and elaborates on his first answer, "They deserve to be remembered. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they happened to fall into the category in what I like to see in my perfect woman, until they disappointed me with their imperfections."

"I fell into that category, didn't I?"

His hand caresses the uninjured side of his face, "I tried to fight it Erin, but the urge was so high. I just need the right woman and maybe she can help me? Maybe she can tame the urge inside of me? And you did that for me…temporarily."

"Tyler, you need to get help," the pain in her abdomen passes and she's able to speak more assertively, "A love interest can't help you with what you're going through. You absolutely need to see a doctor. You want the urges to stop; a doctor can make that happen."

His hand remains against her cheek until she pushes it away, "I want it to stop without being locked away. They'll just lock me away and pump me with drugs."

"It's either that or you keep killing!" She shouts, watching as he angrily straightens his posture and kicks the nearest trashcan, "I can tell that you don't want to do this." The trashcan falls over.

His eyes are wide and watery for the first time, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't have to; we can walk out of here together and go down to the district."

"We can't do that Erin."

She nods, "Yes we can"

"Out of all the girls, I knew you the most. I worked with you. I saw you at your worst. I really got a chance to get to know you." He remarks, dragging the tray table over towards the restraining chair, "I think, maybe because of that, if I kill you I might be cured? It might go away indefinitely." He grabs each tool to neatly set it down onto the table.

"You don't know that."

"…but it's worth a try, right?" He looks down at her.

"No, why take the chance? You just told me that you don't want to kill."

"I don't, but I want to feel better."

"And I promise to help you feel better if you let me leave."

Lindsay leans forward to stretch her back and relieve pressure from the lower portion. The ache in her lower back comes in waves; the pain sometimes travels towards the front of her abdomen. She twists, turns and changes positions, but the pain doesn't subside or go away –not even a little. She has experienced backache during her pregnancy, but it was nothing like this. It was nothing as strong and sporadic as the pain she's feeling now. She leans her head back to rest against the side of the chair, her eyes tightly squeezed shut until she hears him speak, "Erin-"

She reopens them, "You're better than this. Be better," her head nods erratically, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead, "Sometimes we need to be the better person. And you can be it."

"I'm sorry." He shakes his head. He leans forward and makes himself eye-level with her imperfect orbs; he stares into them, into the imperfection that led to this moment and she sees the distance, the separation, between them. When she looks into his eyes, she no longer sees the joking, cocky and charming man she's known for almost a year; instead his confidence and the obvious lack of remorse and guilt dominantly shine through in a twisted look his eyes portray.

She swallows hard, "Tyler," her eyes water, "are you going to kill me?" Erin is leaning back against the seat, sweating profusely.

"I'm afraid so." His answer increases the rate her heart is beating and the abdominal ache, the pain, all comes crashing back in, "Your eyes…they're just another imperfection. I fell for your imperfection. You should have just stopped me sooner. You should have figured this out before my temporary cure wore off. This is you and your team's fault. The only reason I was even in that club that day was to scope you out; I wanted your team to work my case." Tyler lays his hand upon her shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze, "So, I'm sorry it has come to this. I'm sorry that I have to kill you. And I wasn't even going to, I was going to spare you, but the universe is against you right now, you snooped and you're flawed. You're flawed just like the rest of them were."

She's unable to process everything he's saying; she's in entirely too much pain to focus on what he's saying and what he's trying to do. Another wave of pain hits, this time sharper and harsher, forcing her arm to cradle her lower stomach. Her opposite hand comes to press down against it; the pain was so immense, it was a feeling she has never felt before in her life. Erin's stressed; she's on edge, and as her hand rubs around her expanded belly she realizes one thing, she's not feeling her baby kick. The baby usually kicks like crazy when Erin's stressed; it's painful, but right now Erin wished and prayed that the hardest kick would be hit against anywhere –the side of her stomach, her rib, absolutely anywhere- she needs a sign that her daughter is okay. Lindsay shifts and continues to move around, she's shaking and mentally freaking out; she feels no movement inside of her body. She feels nothing. And that nothingness makes her cry.

Overwhelming tears trickling down her cheeks, the deep breaths she's struggling to take and the hyperventilation she starts to experience has her face turning a dark shade of red. Erin is screaming out for her baby; she's praying for her daughter –her unnamed daughter- to be okay, to be healthy and most importantly alive. Erin cradles her stomach, her chin to her chest as she wheezes and cries out in pain and grief. She's so used to feeling something, whether it's movement, her daughter lying against one of her organs or a kick; she's so used to feeling it that the moment she doesn't, she feels lost and empty. This whole time Erin didn't feel alone, her daughter was with her, and she felt safe because of it. The idea of her daughter was a mental escape; it was a safe place for right now; her safety. She was physically locked in Tyler's basement, but mentally she was gone; her head thinking of life and a future with her daughter alive and well to see it. As her eyes glaze over, refusing to believe that it's a possibility she's experiencing a late term miscarriage, Tyler grabs both her arms and aggressively pulls her to her feet, "It's time."

She looks up to meet his eyes, "What about my baby? She's innocent," more pressure, she can feel being applied to her pelvic, "She did nothing wrong. Please Tyler, you can't hurt my baby." This pelvic pressure makes it feel like her baby is going to fall out, especially now that she's standing. It comes and goes and it sometimes feels like the pressure is being applied to her bladder –it gives her the feeling that she needs to urinate.

Tyler's hands are holding Erin up; her feet and ankles ready to give out at any second. He's averting his attention from her stomach to her eyes –contemplating and reasoning through the many possibilities on how he can proceed, "If I remove the baby, it won't survive."

"It won't; it's still early in my pregnancy," she agrees, hoping that she's getting through to him enough to convince him to take her to a hospital, "And she's not moving; I need to see a doctor Tyler. She's not kicking. She's not moving. She's not doing anything."

"I thought you didn't like it when she kicked."

"She's supposed to kick me! She's just a baby Tyler! My innocent," Erin cradles her stomach with both arms, "sweet baby does not deserve this!" Her shoulders shake as she cries loudly, "Please…I can't have a stillborn baby. I can't handle that."

One hand remains wrapped around her arm while the other cups her face, "You're almost nine months. It's a chance your baby will survive. I can scalp it out."

"I need a doctor. You don't touch my stomach or my baby." She pushes him away and stumbles back; her nose is runny and her eyes are filled with tears.

"…then I don't know what you want me to do?" His crazed eyes immediately avert in her direction, watching her take cautionary steps away from him, "I want to keep your baby alive, but you're going to die regardless. And your baby needs you to live."

"So don't kill me."

He clasps his hands together, frustrated, "Erin, you don't understand. I'm not doing this because I want to; I'm doing this because I have to. I'm sorry, but your baby is just collateral damage."

His mind is made up. He knows it and she surely knows it now. And with that, without another second of hesitation, she ignores the pain in her stomach and back and makes a dash towards the staircase. She doesn't get far –she didn't even expect to get far. Before she can even reach the first stair, Tyler grabs her; he lifts her up and holds her tight as she thrashes around wildly. Her hands flying in all sorts of directions, her legs kicking erratically and then suddenly she stops. She felt something inside of her give. It breaks. A trickle of liquid runs down her legs, leaving damp lines embedded into her leggings. She's held up in Tyler's arms as more liquid uncontrollably releases, soaking her pants. It's a gush of fluid –an extreme gush- that felt nothing like going to the bathroom. Before all of this, there was a popping sensation that was quickly followed by a rush of a warm substance that soaked through the fabric of her leggings. As he maneuvered her towards the chair a few extra drops –a little more leakage- flowed out at the slightest movement. This isn't the fault of her uncontrollable bladder; this is her amniotic sac –it broke. She's officially in labor, but it's early, she's not due for another month; Erin is in pre-term labor, and what frightens her more than giving birth at thirty-five weeks, is the fact that the baby that will be born may not even be alive.

Everyone remains at the precinct doing their jobs, except for Halstead; he can't seem to bring himself to put his cell phone down. He's been distracted and calling Erin consistently over the last hour, but she hasn't answered. He's been texting her, rotating between calling the house phone and her cell phone and even resorted to calling Tyler, hoping he would answer and be with Erin. No one picked up though. No one responded to any of his texts and calls. She could be at home asleep or lying in a ditch somewhere, the possibilities were endless and that's what scared Jay the most. As Halstead relays another message to his wife's voicemail, he listens in on the team's discussion of the case, Dawson being the current detective speaking at the moment, "Why would someone kill Gregory Bishop after framing him? They were going to get away with this. He was going to go down. This was almost the perfect crime."

Burgess took a seat behind her desk, "Maybe he knew that it wasn't over. Maybe he knew that Gregory's name might possibly be cleared so they decided to set up a suicide with a note having Gregory confess to all of those murders."

Jay is trying to pay attention and do his job, but the more times he left a voicemail on his wife's phone, the more antsy and nervous he grew. She received a package like them. She received a warning. She's supposed to be here by now. She wouldn't just go home; she wouldn't risk her and the baby's safety like that. Halstead rose from his seat and approached Mouse, "Hey, keep this between me and you right now," he leaned forward and whispered to his friend, "Can you trace Erin's cell phone and get me the location?" Mouse saw the look in his friend's eyes and immediately knew this was serious. He lowered the surveillance footage window and opened the program to trace Lindsay's phone. As Mouse conducted a phone trace, Jay tuned back into the conversation to hear Olinsky speak, "No one knew that Erin was looking into it. His lawyer didn't even know that. The only people who knew it besides our unit, is Tyler."

"Tyler?" Halstead repeated the name and stepped forward, earning the attention of everyone in the bullpen, "You know Erin asked me whether or not I thought he has psychopathic tendencies? She didn't think he was the killer, but she did think he had some qualities of a psychopath."

"And he's law enforcement," Ruzek chimed in.

Atwater added, "He has access to the jail."

Dawson whispers loud enough for the team to hear, "To our case…"

They were obviously all thinking the same thing, leading the discussion to the same conclusion. Neither wanted to say it aloud and no one wanted to be the one to imply it until they knew for sure. Voight was silent, thinking to himself and laying out all of the facts they've just stated –all were true. He bit his lower lip and walked down the aisle, "He was there when you," he nods in Olinsky's direction, "arrested Gregory Bishop and suddenly found evidence in plain sight."

Burgess nervously rose from her seat, "He knew about my tattoo. I broke things off with him the night before I was attacked."

"Let's quickly create a character profile on Detective West," Voight asserted, scanning around the room to see which detective is going to speak up first, "What do we know about him?"

"He's a cop. His parents died." Burgess lists the stated facts that she knew as Halstead continues to ring his wife's phone. Tracing her location was taking longer than expected.

Ruzek announced, "They died."

"Yes," Kim clarified, "they were murdered –strangled- he found their bodies."

Voight bites his lip and nods as he takes in the information, "Was the killer ever caught?"

"No."

"And where did Tyler go afterwards?" The sergeant continued his questioning.

"He went into foster care."

Adam, sitting upon his desk, ankle crossed over ankle, "How do you know this?" His arms are folded over his chest and his head tilted to the side in curiosity.

"All he talked about during our date was himself. It's like it was all he could talk about."

It wasn't much to go on, but it seemed to be enough. Eye contact was made in the silence of the bullpen. Whoever is doing this is playing some sort of cat and mouse game with all of them. His cunning maneuvers were all used to plan and thwart them and their investigation. Voight snapped his fingers in the direction of Atwater in order to gain his attention, "Call Detective West's district. See why they let him join my unit for this specific case."

"Hank, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" It's Olinsky who voices his concern, hoping that the sergeant was making the same assumptions.

"Yeah, we need to ask Tyler a few questions."

If their assumption is correct, he's toying with them. He torments the victims and toys with the detectives and the investigation. The unit is in pursuit, may be near identifying and capturing the perpetrator, only to have it thwarted by an escape or a false piece of evidence. Voight hears Atwater talking on the phone, he waits patiently, but the team, more so Burgess continues to talk about the possibility of Tyler being their killer, "He's confident. He's smooth. He's cocky. He's charming and he probably used that charm to manipulate me and Erin."

Voight steps towards her, "Erin."

"I keep calling her," Halstead interjects into the conversation.

"Give her another call," Hank turns to face him.

"She's not answering!" Jay shouts, the many looks in the room driving him crazy and putting his worries on edge, "She text me that she's heading home to rest!"

"Call her again!" Voight ordered, walking towards the detective, "Call her until she picks up!"

"Sarg," Atwater hangs up the desk phone and rises from his seat, "I just got off the phone with Tyler's sergeant. He said Detective West requested to work this case; he practically pleaded. The sergeant gave in because Tyler wouldn't leave it alone. He needed to be on this case."

"He's been throwing us off this whole time," Voight's closed fist slams down angrily against the corner of Erin's desk, "Let's suit up. We're going to pay Detective West a visit."

"Boss," Mouse shouts, eyes down on the notepad as he jots down an address, "I tracked her."

Voight is strapping on his vest, "Well, where the hell is she?!"

"Her phone says she's still at Tyler's," He runs over to Hank to hand him the written down address, "Here, it's a ten to fifteen minute drive."

Voight pockets the address before he and his team disappear down to the weapons locker. They're suited up, they're armed and now they're heading out the door, ready to bring Tyler in dead or alive. From what they know based off of the original character profile Dr. Charles provided them on a psychopathic killer, he'll probably be trying to maintain what little control he'll have the moment he's surrounded by detectives aiming weapons at him, ready to shoot. He'll probably deny everything or make excuses. He won't accept responsibility because he won't find any fault in his actions. Tyler sees no wrongdoing in his past actions and definitely not in his current ones as he roughly sets Erin down in the chair. She's too focused on her labor pains to notice him strapping her wrists down to the arms of the chair. A sharp pain hits, forcing a scream to erupt from her opened mouth, and her head thrashes from one side to the other –side to side, back and forth and he gets mad. He grips her chin, forcing her to keep her head still as he pulls a leather strap over her forehead to restrain it from moving. Her wrists are strapped to the arms of the chair and he's tightening the buckled restraint over her forehead. It forces her to keep still.

The contractions stop…at least for the moment. She's gathering and controlling her breath. The breathing she learned at her child birthing class was far from her mind. One tear drop, it was all her weak body could form and release, dropped from her eye and slowly trickled down her cheek. She's forced to watch him grab a pair of latex gloves and pull them over his hands. He's not crazy, but he's surely not in his right state of mind. He knows the difference between right and wrong; he knows this isn't right; he has even admitted it. Tyler stretches his fingers within the cheap pair of gloves as he reaches onto the tray for the black marker. It's the same marker he used to trace around Kim's tattoo, and it will be the same marker he'll use to trace around her eyes. He moves his stool closer to her head, "Alright…"

"Wait," her voice sounds broken as she pleads, "Please don't do this."

"I have your jar open and ready," he eyes the jar positioned beside him. Erin is unable to see it as he leans her chair back, "I've always said you have beautiful eyes," he twists the cap off the marker and sets it down onto the tray, "…that was until I found out you wear contacts." His hand caresses the side of her face as he presses the marker lightly against the skin beneath her eye, "I'm so glad this will all be over soon. I absolutely hate it when I have to fake being nice." He's making small talk as he outlines the area around her eyes.

Both eyes have a light trace of maker surrounding them. The outline is harder to see on the injured side of her face though; the bruising, the discoloring and the swelling make it nearly impossible to even see the resemblance the left side of her face has with the right side. The impact and the landing the side of her face had with the cemented ground had to be worse than what was suspected. Tyler didn't care though; in his head, she wouldn't have to live with that for long. He sets the marker down and grabs the scalpel, "Alright, now I need you to be completely still. If you want to look presentable when I leave you for your friends to find, you'll have to remain quiet and absolutely still. You wouldn't want me to cut your eyes out wrong."

It seemed everything was working against both of them right now. The second he finishes talking and brings the scalpel near the uninjured side of her face, she tilts her head as far back as the restraint allowed and released an overwhelming scream of agony; she's in pain. The contractions are back and it's more intense this time. Erin needs a doctor. This baby is coming whether they like it or not. She feels the pressure in her loins increase and she's probably near dilation, but she didn't have a doctor to check. Lindsay is unable to keep still because of the pain surging through her back, her lower abdomen and her pelvis. Tyler sits back and releases a breath of irritation, "You're not going to keep still with that baby still inside of you," he holds the scalpel tightly in one hand and lifts her sweater with the other, "I'm going to have to get the baby out first." He pulls off the gloves and tosses them over his shoulder, "I've never helped to deliver a baby before," the tips of his fingers apply gently to her stomach, he doesn't feel any movement from the baby, but since he's never done something like this before, he didn't know what to expect, "With your phone constantly ringing, I know we don't have the time to wait around and let you birth naturally so," he sets the scalpel down and walks over to the sink and begins washing his hands, "There's always a first time for everything. You're going to have to have a C-section and I'm going to be the one to give it to you."

"No," she utters through a quick breath, "Please, no. You're not a doctor, not a surgeon; you're not skilled in any way to perform surgery on me," she says in one breath before the next contraction hit. They're coming sooner, quicker and more often. They're close in time.

Tyler dries his hands on the hand towel before tossing it over onto the floor. He grabs a new pair of gloves and slides them on. The scalpel is lifted next as he approaches the chair. She's shaking her head. The contraction has passed, but it's only inevitable that the next one will come shortly after. With her tired breaths, she exclaims, "I don't have any pain medication. I need pain meds. I need fluids. You don't have the necessary equipment to perform a caesarian section! I need anesthesia. I need to be put to sleep. I need something to numb the pain!"

"You know," Tyler runs his hand through her hair, "Must I remind you, I enjoy the sound of screams. And I know you're angry Erin. Screaming can help you let the anger out. You see, my anger builds up like a pressure cooker," he brings the scalpel down to her abdomen, "And this is how I release it."


	15. Do it

In times of emergency, in times of pain, of fear, of trauma and distress, our brain shuts down. It's a protective mechanism. It kicks in the second our bodies –our mental psyche- proves to be unable to handle the current stressor. Even though her wrists are bound to the arms of the chair, she feels her hands get clammy; there was a glisten of sweat appearing on her forehead. Her eyes were wide as she waited for the inevitable moment the scalpel will make contact with her stomach. What she felt, and what she was about to feel, no one else could possibly understand. She was physically and mentally stuck, absolutely trapped in a basement, restrained to a chair, with no plausible way to get out alone. Even if she wasn't bound to a chair, Tyler was taller, fitter, and stronger and the adrenaline he got from the thrill in his kills made him even more menacing. He lives in a black and white world; a world where everything is perfect or imperfect, fine or poor, or good or bad. There's no in-between. The perspective he has on the world he lives in, his thought process and his actions were all distorted.

This was a living nightmare. Her eyes widened even more at the sight of the scalpel's blade lightly running over her skin. It's like he's taunting her. The knife barely touched her stomach as it traced a gentle line over her abdomen. Occasionally, it prickled against her flesh, but not enough to draw blood or cause pain. The hairs on the nape of her neck rise; a cold chill sends goosebumps down her arms. The blade of the knife is slow and deliberate as he mocks her; he carefully slides it over her stomach, being very careful not to actually cut her. Erin breathed in and out, but her lungs felt tight. She felt starved for air. Her breathing hitched every time the scalpel came too close. Both are without words, both seem to be scared even though he had absolutely no reason to be. Out of that fear, he became a monster, a person completely irredeemable. It was only a matter of time before he was done playing around and actually ready to cause damage. It was only a matter of time before her entire world changed. Her heart is racing at an intense speed, her chest rising and falling as he brings the scalpel down to her stomach. It's still. He isn't moving the blade. They remain that way –for what feels like hours, but in actuality was a mere few seconds. Each second she was immersed in fear created a permanent mark on her heart.

The blade is lifted and placed against the side of her stomach. They both knew what was about to happen and she tried to scream because of it. She wanted to scream, but the inside of her mouth was dry and a gurgle of worry was all that managed to come out. Pressure is applied from the scalpel to her lower abdomen, beginning the incision along her stomach. A piercing –dying- scream finally erupts loudly in the air, filling his ears as small drops of blood drips down her stomach. She's yanking her arms, trying to move, trying to kick him away, but he doesn't stop. He draws a line with the scalpel across her stop; it's a light scratch, it barely penetrates her skin. Specks of blood line the blade of the scalpel as he lifts it up and watches as the few drops of blood drip onto his arm. He tightens his grip around the knife and slowly lowers it back down to her stomach while cries of pleas fill the walls of his basement. She's scared, so scared –completely terrified with absolute justification for her emotions.

Erin is unable to keep still, even though the restraints are keeping her down and tied to the chair, her body keeps squirming and her legs continue to kick. It forces Tyler to annoyingly pull the scalpel away. While looking into his eyes and seeing the absolute lack of remorse, fear crept back into her soul. Growing up with Voight, he always told her there was nothing to fear, but fear itself. Granted that whoever formulated that quote had obviously never been pregnant, tied to a chair in the basement of a demented psychopath wielding a scalpel millimeters above their stomach. That quote –Voight's words had played on repeat in her head, but the fear was too strong to silence, it was too powerful and overwhelming to overcome in this moment. Tyler taps the scalpel against the untouched flesh of her stomach to gain her attention, "If you keep moving, I might cut too deep and hurt your baby. Stay still. That's your last warning."

Lindsay is sweating, not because she's hot, but because she's scared. There isn't an enemy she would wish this upon. There isn't a person who would be able to handle this. Erin's brain jumps in to protect her once again. It's forcing her to imagine the good times –both past and hopefully in the future. She pictures herself laying in bed, cuddled up to her husband with a baby –who appears to be a few months old- sitting on his chest, giggling at one of the many goofy faces and noises he's making. That's supposed to be a chapter in her life, not this. She's supposed to have control over the ending of her story, not him. She's hiccupping tears and trying to take deep breaths so she can keep still. Even though this doesn't look like it's going to end well, she has to give her baby a fighting chance. If being still does it, she has to try her hardest.

Erin tells herself that she isn't scared; she's not afraid even though everything she's doing proves against that. Her limbs are tight. Her appetite is gone. She's sweating, her pupils appear to be dilated, and any signs of a smile are long gone. The fear that she desperately tells herself she doesn't have is paralyzing, it's affecting her ability to think logically and rationally. Lindsay wanted to run as far away from him as possible, but she also wanted to beat the shit out of him, and honestly if either were plausible right now, either would suffice. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to focus her mind and body on remaining still and silent.

"Open your eyes," he demands, not moving until the order is followed. She doesn't listen though. Erin shakes her head and refuses until his hand angrily grips her chin to angle her head in his direction, "I don't like to repeat myself. If you want your kid to have the slightest chance of surviving, you will open your eyes. You're trying to stall, but let me tell you this, if this scalpel," he holds it up in front of her face, "does not make contact with your stomach in the next three minutes, I'll say forget saving the baby and I'll start on your eyes. I don't need them to be open for that." She opens her eyes and keeps them open, "That's a good girl. You have my word that once you pass away, I'll take good care of your baby."

Her eyes widen, "No, you…you're going to give my baby to Jay."

"No," he takes a seat on the stool, holding the scalpel above her lower stomach.

"Please," she cries out, clenching her hands into fists, "I'm doing as you said. I'm following your order. Please! Give my baby to her father."

"I'll keep her and raise her into perfection; I'll raise her to be something you're not, the perfect woman," his words haunt her and she opens her mouth to rebut, but he immediately cuts her off, "This isn't open for discussion. That's the final word. You won't have any way of stopping me once you die so save your breath and use it to scream."

The color drained from her face at the thought of her child, her baby, her infant daughter being raised by this madman. Her face is as white as a sheet, her expression is frozen, her forehead sweating and her chest rising and falling with each struggled breath she takes as the scalpel gets closer and closer to her stomach. Even if she wanted to talk, she was unable to speak, her hands clenched, white knuckles appearing and her body was incapacitated with fear as the scalpel made contact with her flesh. He's been gently sliding the blade of the scalpel over her stomach, creating a white line of prickled skin where he plans to make the deeper incision. It doesn't hurt. The pain on the side of her face aches more than that, but suddenly, the pain hits. Tear after tear rolls down, stinging the wounded side of her face. A scream tears into her; her hands unclench and grip the handle of the chair as her eyes feel like they're physically rolling into the back of her head. It's a pain like she's never experienced before; she was scared of having a C-section, and now she's having one without medication at the hands of a serial killer.

Tyler pulls the scalpel away; her screams remain -if not increase in volume- at the shock and the pain at what just occurred. His gloves covered in blood, not as much as she expected though. He barely made a dent. It's a simple cut that would probably require over twenty stitches; it's not deep enough to kill her or get her baby out. The pain is still immense though. It's bad enough to cause her to pass out from it. He's forced to rise from his seat and gently slap his hand repeatedly against the side of her face; he does it until she wakes up. He needs her to be awake for this. Erin feels forced to open her eyes, and every natural body movement her body processes and acts out on is put on hold, she has to mimic what is expected because her brain completely unregisters from the situation. He taps her shoulder and she continues to stir awake.

She had only been out for a few seconds, but she's out of it. She's quickly reminded of her surroundings and of her current situation. She's aware that none of it was a nightmare. Her muscles are tense. However long she has been in Tyler's basement is unknown to her, every second and minute that ticked by felt like an eternity. Her legs are starting to fall asleep; she shifts them to wake them up. Erin briefly closes her eyes and sighs, "Can I," she licks her dry lips, "can I have my baby? Can you hand her to me? I want to see her." She's delirious. She thinks her baby had been born and she's actually averting her eyes around the room in search for her. She's tired and weak and through an exhausted breath, she whispers, "Where is my baby? Is she okay? I want to see my baby. Where is she?"

Tyler uses the scalpel to point towards her stomach, "Still in there. Look Erin, I need you to stay still and stay awake for this. Be strong."

It wasn't over. It wasn't even close to being over. She starts to silently cry again. Her breathing gets caught in her throat; the fear made it feel like someone was choking her. She could barely get in a breath of air without struggling. Erin watches as Tyler grabs a rag to wipe his scalpel clean and she breaks down even harder. Her shoulders are shaking. Her heart is racing. All she wants to do is curl up into a ball and wait for Voight and Halstead to save her –but they couldn't. No one is here, but them. She's alone. A gurgled cry erupts and it clears her throat to allow more sobs to fill the room. There is always a moment in times like this where you realize this is possibly the end. She didn't know how far the team was or even if they were on their way, but regardless, she was running out of time. Erin can't even remember ever feeling this scared in her life. She feels a contraction hit, everything that occurred has only happened in the last ten minutes. It felt longer, it seemed longer, but it was only ten minutes –the ten longest minutes in her life. She grips the arms of the chair and through a strangled breath, she pleads, "Tyler, please, it isn't too late to call me an ambulance!"

Her phone rings again and instead of responding to her plea, he ignores it. This was at least the fifteenth time it has rung and finally, he hears it fizzle out and die due to low battery. He didn't even need another reason to mock and taunt her. While keeping his hand gripped around the scalpel, he walks over to the counter to grab her phone, "Look," he lifts it up and wiggles it in front of her, "it's dead. It's gone. No more calls from that husband of yours." She's too distracted by the strong contraction to respond. With the band of the head restraint pressing against her forehead, she struggles to lean forward, "Tyler," she says through labored breaths, "I have the urge to push. I need a hospital. I need to push."

"No," he approaches her stomach, "I intend to take the baby out another way."

"I can just naturally deliver," she pleads; her entire face red and sweaty, "Let me just push."

"No, this is more fun and you should trust me."

She feels forced to tug at the restraints. They don't loosen at all and as a response, an animalistic grunt of pain is exclaimed. She wanted to stop pushing, more for the fact that she's only eight months pregnant, the longer the baby stays inside, the higher the chance she has at surviving. However, the stress, the fear, the fall down the stairs had all played a role in her pre-term labor. It all caused for her water to break. The fear she has of her predicament tightens her chest, it dries her mouth, it silences her voice, it contracts her muscles and it fills her eyes with dread. The fear is unexplainable. It's more than the fear of being in a dark place and seeing slight movement from an unknown figure in the corner of your eye. It's more than being lost and unable to find solace. It's a fear that musters up and reveals the desperation and horror in a scream; it reveals the panic and fright behind her eyes –the pure, unadulterated trepidation. She hears his warning, she sees the threat in his eyes, but it doesn't take away the urge to push. Erin feels herself naturally pushing until his hand angrily grips beneath her chin, "You need to stop."

"I can't," she admits in one breath; it's taking every part of her not to push this baby out, "You don't understand. I physically can't stop the baby from coming."

Tyler notices he barely made an impact on her stomach. There's a long scratch, showing how he started lightly cutting into her flesh, but it was barely noticeable besides the droplets of blood. He barely made it through the first layer of skin. He's nowhere near the placenta; he's nowhere near the actual baby. He'll have to carve in. Tyler goes towards his tools deeming the scalpel too thin and weak to actually cut her stomach open. Erin is forced to watch him search through a drawer of tools for something stronger and sharper that will actually get the job done. That fear that she's been so focused on is still present, but she refuses to acknowledge it. She's not allowed to be scared when she needs to be brave for her baby. She's not permitted to show her anxiety and the fear that continually grows in her heart. Whether her daughter is here or not, she's someone's mama. She's someone's protector. She's the guardian, the defender, the parent of someone innocent and defenseless who is not even here to defend herself.

She wants to cradle her stomach. She needs to assure her daughter that mom will find a way out of this; she doesn't know how, but if there is any reason for her not to give up, it's the baby she's carrying. Tyler finds the tool needed –it's a saw, a fucking saw. He brings it to the sink and begins cleaning it as nonchalantly as one would clean dishes. A scalpel she had a chance of surviving, there's no way she can survive being sawed apart. Whatever fear she tried to hide is obvious now. Erin is hyperventilating, twisting and yanking at the restraints around her wrists. Each second in time seems to drag out. Her breathing becomes erratic; every breath she takes is deep and shallow, almost as if it's possibly her last. However, no matter how much she desperately wants to, no matter how easy it would be to, she can't give up. She can't because this isn't just about her; it's about Hank, it's about Jay…and it's about her baby. Her baby who didn't deserve any of this, an innocent child who didn't choose her parents or the world she will inevitably be born into, this was not her fault. And she deserved a fighting chance.

That fighting chance seems to be closer than she expected when they both hear a loud knock at the front door. Their eyes instantly meet and before she's able to drop her jaw and release the loudest, bloodcurdling scream imaginable, he drops the saw and races to throw his hand over her mouth. With all his strength, he holds his large hand over her mouth and pushes down to guarantee her silence. She's squirming, fidgeting and trying to make as many noises as possible, but suddenly the knocking stops. Her eyes widen in fear; they couldn't have possibly given up. There's no more knocking and Tyler draws his hand slowly away from her mouth, lets it trail down her neck, down her chest before resting upon her stomach. He reaches over her and grabs the scalpel off the counter. He smiles and seconds before he's able to take his next action, they hear a loud crash. The front door is kicked in.

Tyler's hand is back over her mouth as they hear feet walking on the floor above them. The floorboards are creaking upstairs as they attempt to tiptoe into his house. Her eyes avert around the room, his grip over her mouth tightens and he feels forced to hold the scalpel against her throat. He's willing to do anything to guarantee her silence. As they searched the floor above, West realized he needed to think quickly on his feet. He's debating what to do first, either the baby or her eyes. He only has time to do one. Being close to capture sends a rush of adrenaline down his spine, it's invigorating and absolutely energizing. That feeling though is cut short from the painful sensation of her teeth biting down onto his hand. He instinctively pulls his hand away to rub it as her mouth opens to shout, "Down here! I'm down here!" Out of anger, he backhands her. The impression of her teeth seeded into the side of his hand.

With the scalpel still in the opposite hand, he rushes up to her face, deciding to focus on her eyes. She doesn't stop screaming. She shouts and hollers until the door is busted in and the team raids down the stairs and into the basement. Slowly, the team spreads out, surrounding him as the blade of the scalpel hovers above the injured side of her face. The outline has already been drawn; he just needs to trace it until he loosens it enough to claw her eyes out.

"Get away from her!" Detective Halstead draws his weapon and aims it towards Tyler.

Dawson begins moving towards the right of him, "We will shoot you!" He's looking for a weakness, a way to take on Tyler without shooting.

"Step away!" Burgess demands, finger trembling and hovering above the trigger.

Hank seethes impatiently, "Drop the weapon!" No obvious panic or worry on his face. He has confidence that this will end one of two ways, either Tyler leaving in a body bag or in handcuffs.

There's a silent stare down in the room. If given the order, Halstead would shoot on sight. He was ready. His itching trigger finger anticipating the moment he can end this. Tyler incoherently mumbles something as the blade remains angled above her left eye. Shooting is too big of a risk. Halstead didn't want to take the chance and give West the opportunity to shove that blade into her eye. His team, his buddies were watching his wife's back, judging the situation based off their objective training. Jay couldn't. His eyes stayed on Erin; he couldn't take them off of her. The pain he feels for his wife is all in his eyes. He can tell she's in pain and he would give every part of him to relieve her of it. And she is in pain. Between the occasional contractions, the injury to the side of her face, and the cuts to her stomach, Erin is in a lot of pain. She needs a hospital. She needs a doctor. She needs pain medication.

Burgess soon becomes distracted by Erin's presence. She hears Tyler, Voight and Dawson sharing words, but she's too absorbed by her surroundings. The team sees the amount of blood on the floor. They see the alignment of jars and party beads. Every piece of evidence needed to convict him is all within reaching distance. As her eyes scan the row of jars, she notices hers. It says her name and it's empty. Voight's spots Erin's jar; it's opened and empty, waiting for whatever body part he was preparing to take. Kim zones back into the conversation to hear Tyler have the audacity to play innocent; his words fill with confidence, "The only reason you solved this case is because I wanted you to. I let you solve it." The scalpel is adjusted in his hand and that's when Erin's eyes meet those of Jay, "I'm going to warn you all to stay back."

One tear escapes from Lindsay's eye and trickles down her cheek, "My water broke."

"My tattoo," Burgess suddenly shouts, lowering her weapon, "The jar that's empty with my name on it…it was for my tattoo."

Tyler is forced to look over his shoulder at the jar, "You're correct."

"You want it?" She holsters her weapon and begins unstrapping her vest, "If you want it, come take it. It's yours." The team catches on to her distraction. Tyler won't be able to resist temptation; it's unfinished business. It's an imperfection that he must perfect. Kim tosses her vest to the side and slowly lifts her shirt to show Tyler her tattoo –the scar from his earlier attack is clearly evident and as she takes a step closer her eyes sneakily avert towards Ruzek beside her, "Watch my back." He nods. She didn't even have to ask.

Jay uses the distraction, the open opportunity, to holster his weapon and run up to Erin's side. Tyler's staring at Burgess, but the scalpel remains above Erin's eye. Halstead has to be careful. Any quick movement could spook him and send the blade through her face. Lindsay is relieved when her husband reaches her side; she remains quiet as his fingers fumble to unstrap the restraint around her head. He loosens the wrist restraint closest to him just enough for her to slide her arm free. Tyler is completely absorbed and distracted by the butterfly tattoo inked into the side of Kim's stomach. Jay uses the opportunity to grip his wrist, the wrist that holds the scalpel above his wife. West's head whips in his direction and he uses his strength to try and push the blade down through her eye. It's strength against strength. Jay isn't using his dominant hand and it starts to show when the blade gets closer to Erin. However Voight steps in and kicks Tyler's feet from beneath him, causing for the man to fall to his knees. No detective rushes to his aid. Jay is too focused on his wife; both hands of his cup her face and he leans forward to press kisses around her cheeks. His hand is gentle against the injured side of her face and his eyes water at the immediate relief he has in seeing her alive.

At some point, he doesn't even notice, but Burgess unties her other wrist restraint. His hands remain cupping her face and he refuses to let go. His lips can barely stop making contact with hers. Tears mix into the kiss; breaths of relief fill the air. He feels her suddenly pull away and he's worried. Her hand flies to the top of her stomach and he notices; it's blood speckled on her flesh and blood stained into the fabric of her pants and her sweater. Jay steps back, his heart figuratively dropping at the thought, at the possibility that his baby was gone. They got here in time to save her, but it may have already been too late for their daughter. Erin sees the look in his face and it scares her. It must look really bad if he's looking at her with sympathy in his eyes. He has to be strong for her right now; he needs to be positive and after swallowing the fear that seemed to seep its way into his being, he approaches her, "We called an ambulance before busting in the house. It should be here any minute."

Erin is speechless. All she is able to do is nod and attempt to sit up, but the second her body rises to an upright position, another contraction hits. She manages to hide it as Jay and Antonio help her up and onto her feet. It was one thing to attempt to hide it when she was lying down, but standing makes it feel worse. She tried to hide the contraction so Jay wouldn't worry, but her legs give out and both Halstead and Dawson grab her arms before she's able to fall to her knees. She clenches her stomach as Jay stoops down behind her, "Where is the ambulance Jay?" She cries out, curling up into a fetal position, "What's taking it so long? They have sirens for a reason! Why aren't they here yet?!"

His hand rubs against her lower back, "They'll be here any minute. Just focus on your breathing and the baby," he sits behind her.

"It's too early!" She whines; the side of her face lay on the floor, her knees bent and her arms circling around her stomach; she's curled into a ball, "I'm only 35 weeks. That's pre-term labor Jay! The baby is not even considered full term until at least 37 weeks!"

"You might not even be in labor," he replies, keeping his voice gentle while he continues to rub circles into her back.

"My water broke, I'm having contractions, my back hurts," her voice becomes less strained as the contraction dies down, "I have pelvic pressure…lots of it. And I'm pretty sure there was vaginal discharge in all of this blood," Erin's voice breaks in the end; "…all of this blood Jay."

Tyler's presence is overlooked by Jay and Erin. They're too fixated on Erin's pre-term labor. They don't hear him, or at least they don't pay him any mind as he continues to voice his innocence. He's on his knees, wrists handcuffed behind his back. Voight is pacing back and forth in front of him and the remainder of the team watches on in fear. They didn't know what they were about to witness tonight. Hank suddenly grips the back of Tyler's head and tilts his head up, "You made a big mistake," Voight shoves him down to the ground.

With his hands cuffed behind his back, Tyler lands on his stomach and face. He rolls onto his side and coughs, refusing to give in and admit anything, he asserts, "I did nothing wrong," his eyes fall to Erin who is in a cradled position a few feet away from him, "They all deserved it," his eyes avert towards Burgess, "They're all less than perfect. I did nothing wrong." He sticks by his words and Hank withdraws the weapon from his holster. He lowers himself to one knee and shoves the barrel of the gun beneath Tyler's chin.

Another contraction hits, Erin is forced to uncurl and bend her legs. With each contraction, the urge to push came back, each stronger than the last. Her hands grip the top of her knees and her head is resting in Jay's lap. He's running his fingers through her hair as he coaches her through this next contraction. Erin is sweating; her eyes wide open and scanning the room, "Where are the paramedics? If I have to ask again, I swear!" Lindsay's unveiled threat sends Atwater to holster his weapon and head upstairs to wait for the paramedics. He needed to give them a heads up and lead them to where Erin was so she can be transported to Chicago Med as soon as possible. Lindsay is doing the useless labored breaths she learned in childbirth class while keeping her hands on her knees; the urge to push is gone and the contraction soon passes, leaving her to fall back and rest her head back on Jay's lap, "That's a lot of blood on the ground and stained in my clothes," the delirium causes for her to actually chuckle, surprising everyone in the room, "That's a lot of blood," her mouth begins losing color, "Hey Jay," he looks down at her as he continues to run his hand through her hair, "If it comes down to it, save the baby."

This earns the attention of everyone in the room. Burgess grabs her vest off the ground and goes to take a seat on the bottom stair. Her eyes are ghosted over and she's in a far off daze. Ruzek takes a seat next to her to be of comfort; her head leans against his shoulder, she appreciates the comfort. Hank remains on his knees next to Tyler's figure; his own eyes blank, the look resembles the look he held when he killed his son's killer. It's a look that no one can break him out of. Hearing Erin's plea only deepens it. Jay leans forward and kisses the top of her forehead, "It won't. It's not going to come to that."

"I want you to promise me," her hand comes up to cradle the side of his face.

"I can't make that promise," he admits honestly; tears welling in his eyes and one soon falls onto her head, "I love you. I can't do that because I love you."

"I need you to promise me," she whispers, cradling both hands around her tummy, "I won't be able to live with myself or with you if my baby dies," if he didn't see the tears falling down her face, he wouldn't even know she was crying, "especially if there was something you could have done to save her."

"You have to fight Erin." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "Don't make me have to make that decision."

"Don't make me have to live childless."

"Erin-"

She pushes herself into an upright position and turns to face him, "Either we both survive or she survives. Jay, I can't live without my baby."

"Erin don't-"

"No Jay listen to me," she reaches out and covers his hand with hers, "When Nadia was killed, the pain I felt over her death was indescribable."

He chimes in, "And you overcame that."

"That was a friend Jay! Nadia was my friend and I'm not trying to diminish that relationship or her death, but she was a FRIEND! That's all!" She argued, grabbing his hand and setting it upon her stomach, "And this is my baby we're talking about, MY BABY! OUR BABY! And she's not kicking." She feels his hand rub around her stomach in search of a kick, "I haven't even met her yet and she might be gone. If she's not okay, I won't be able to forgive myself. I won't be able to overcome this. I won't be able to walk back in that house, go back to work…I won't even be able to look at you. How can I go on without my baby Jay?!"

The hand that was once on her stomach rises to cup and caress the uninjured side of her face, "We won't have to find out. If our daughter is half as strong as her mother, she'll pull through. You're going to go to the hospital, the doctors are going to save you and baby Halstead and then when you get the all clear, we're going to take our daughter home."

She repeats the last half of his sentence, "We're going to take our daughter home."

"Speak it into existence."

She repeats it again, "We're going to take our daughter home."

"Keep saying it," he whispers, noticing as two paramedics are led down the stairs by Atwater, "You need to stay calm. Stress isn't good for the baby."

"We're going to take our daughter home."

He smiles the second she notices the paramedics, "That's right."

"We're going to take our daughter home."

Erin continues to say it over and over again; she says it until she starts to believe. When she stops verbally saying it, she mentally thinks it. The paramedics lay her back and place her onto the gurney with Halstead and Atwater's help. They give her a brief scan and analysis to make sure she's stable enough to be transported to the hospital. A fetal monitor is in the ambulance; they want to move her and with Atwater and Dawson's help, they carry the gurney towards the stairs.

"Detective," the paramedic shouts towards Halstead, "How far along is she?"

"35 weeks," Jay answers, watching as they balance Erin on the gurney and carry her up the stairs, "Please save them both. I'll be following behind the ambulance!"

For the first time since arriving to the house, Jay turns to face Tyler. He's back on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back. No remorse evident on his face. Halstead points at him, his mouth opens but no words come out. He's fuming in rage. His anger is silent. He sees Burgess sit back down on the bottom stair, crying quietly. Voight is distraught, distracted and unaware of Erin even leaving the scene. His mind and his attention remain on Tyler, waiting for him to move, waiting for him to give him a reason to shoot. The team is left alone with Tyler. Jay's fists are clenched, he's red in the face and his temper is so close to being lost. If it wasn't for Erin, Halstead would stay. He would personally see Tyler's punishment through. He's just so mad; everything Tyler put him, his wife and the team through all played through his head.

"You flirt with my wife. You try to manipulate her. You charm her. You kiss her. You toy with our relationship." Halstead growls through gritted teeth as he slowly approaches Tyler, "You killed those women. You killed Trent. You attacked Burgess. You framed and killed an innocent man! You lock my wife in this contraption," his hand waves in the direction of the restraining chair, "You try to kill her and my baby! And you have the nerve to sit there with no amount of remorse on your face." Halstead lowers himself to the ground and becomes eye-leveled with Tyler, "I have to go to the hospital to be with my wife, but this isn't over," he seethes out and doesn't tear his eyes away from West the second Voight raises his weapon and presses it against the side of Tyler's head; Jay's eyes are dark, his thoughts are racing and there is absolutely no regret in his next words, "Do it."


	16. Safe Haven

A surge of panic spreads through his body as he races through the emergency, wide entrance, automatic sliding glass doors of Chicago Med. Ambulances are lined up outside –one of them most likely being the source of transportation for his wife. Paramedics are wheeling in patients on gurneys and dodging him in the process. He's standing in the entrance, his eyes scanning his surroundings for a familiar face. There's chaos everywhere and his mind is playing some kind of trick on him. His brain perceives the world in slow motion. Nurses and doctors running up to the gurneys the paramedics wheel in, a child lost and crying in search of his parents, a few more unadmitted patients with varying degrees of injuries complain about the lack of immediate help –it all occurs in slow motion.

Halstead is in a heightened state of awareness; he notices every miniscule detail of sight and sound. As the faces of doctors and nurses rush pass him, he doesn't recognize any of them. He looks disheveled; he hasn't slept in hours, his eyes are wide and wild, pupils are dilated, heart is racing, brain is overworking his imagination and everything about him portrays a man suffering in a silent panic. He's standing in the middle of the walkway, medical staff rushing past him and he feels frozen in time. Jay is looking for Platt; she had left the precinct to go to the hospital around the same time the paramedics took Erin away. She should be here. She should know something.

"Jay," Platt's voice sounded small. It sounded light and sympathetic.

At the sudden mention of his name, his brain seems to normalize. The movement in his surroundings is no longer in slow motion. He can hear the chaos and chatter around him. He's starting to recognize the faces of the medical staff as they race around to tend to patients. He feels a hand on his shoulder –a hand that has never, once, touched his shoulder, "Hey," her voice nudges for his attention, and when his eyes avert from the chaos playing out around him towards her, she continues, "There's still not much word on her yet. Erin came in around twenty-five minutes ago. All I know is the doctors gave her a drug to slow down her labor; they're stitching her up, stabilizing her and giving her an emergency blood transfusion. The doctors want to take care of mother before delivering baby, especially since she's still dilating."

"Is the baby," he finds the sentence hard to finish, but Platt is aware of his implication.

"That baby isn't even here yet and she's already proven to be one of the strongest people I know," Platt asserted, "next to her mother of course, and that's big coming from me."

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even acknowledge that he heard her, but he did. And she knows he did because her hand has been on his shoulder since she ran into him and she felt it physically ease from the tightness that was once building within it. Jay feels lost. He doesn't know what to do right now. He should be back there, but its surgery, not labor. He needs guidance and Platt picks up on it. They're a team –they're family. Platt wraps her arm around his shoulders and leads him towards the waiting room. It's just as chaotic as the emergency entrance, but Jay is too stuck in his own mind to even notice. Platt's arm drops from his shoulders, she spots two perfectly healthy people –nurses- sitting down, taking a break and drinking coffee. Without a word, she pulls them to their feet in order for her and Jay to have their seats. She pushes him down, "Sit."

Jay is in no mood to protest or argue; he sits and he watches her take a seat next to him. The hospital waiting room is stuffy and hot; the heat had been blasting since it's freezing cold outside. The air reeks of sick people mixed with a hint of bleach. It's a specific smell, but it's accurate. He has been to Chicago Med a number of times in an official capacity, never as the person waiting to hear word about their loved one. Of all the times he has been here, he has never really paid much attention to his surroundings. He is staring forward at some peeled off paint mark on the wall. It holds his attention. The bleak and bland wall maintains his focus until it drifts towards the lining of cheap photos meaning to uplift the spirits in the room –they fail. Photos of smiling families, peaceful scenery and adorable animals are not enough to lift his mood. All Jay can seem to think about is the last memory he had with his wife, the last time he saw her and spoke to her before today. His eyes close so he's able to fully picture the moment.

Jay was asleep. She was supposed to be asleep beside him. In present day, while his eyes are closed, a smile stretches across his lips. She hit him really hard in the stomach and he jumped awake, reaching for his firearm in the drawer of the end table. Her eyes were wide, he pictures it like it was a movie playing out right in front of him.

" _Have you lost your mind?" Erin exclaims, sitting up in bed in a panic, "I thought we agreed to start locking our weapons away in the safe in the closet. We're about to have a baby in this house Jay. That's not safe."_

 _He puts his gun back down in the drawer, "I'll put it in there with yours when she's here." He closes the drawer and snuggles back comfortably under the covers. His eyes close until she speaks again, "What are you doing?"_

" _...knitting a scarf, what does it look like I'm doing Erin? I'm trying to sleep." He's snippy, overworked and absolutely exhausted._

" _You don't have to be mean."_

 _Silence followed her remark. His snores indicate that he has fallen back to sleep and her loud sigh indicates that she isn't happy about it. She hits him again, "Jay!"_

" _What?"_

" _I can't sleep."_

 _While his head remains pressed against his pillow, one eye opens so he's able to look at her, "That's because you're eyes are open and you're sitting up," he recloses the one eye, "maybe if you lay back and shut your eyes, you'll be able to go to sleep."_

" _I'm hungry."_

 _Both of his eyes open, "Erin it's," he glances at the digital clock, "four in the morning. Go back to sleep. I'll fix you breakfast before I head into work."_

" _Your daughter's hungry now."_

 _Jay sits up, "That's not fair."_

" _How about I tell you what's not fair," She throws the covers off her legs, and sets her feet onto the floor, "What's not fair is that I'm carrying around all this extra weight, spending my days, my months growing your kid inside of me and all I want is a hotdog. That's all I want and then we can both go back to sleep. Please, my feet hurt, my breasts hurt, my back hurts and I'm fat. I sacrificed my comfort to bring your child into this world."_

 _Against his wishes, he throws the covers off his legs, "Alright fine, I can already see I won't be getting any sleep no time soon anyway," Jay gets out of bed and drags his bare feet across the white carpet towards the bedroom door, "what do you want me to make you?"_

" _I want a hotdog with all the fixns' on it." She answers almost immediately, licking her lips the second the craving appears in her head. She can already smell the aroma of it. With her eyes closed, her imagination picks up and she pictures the inevitable hotdog she'll eventually receive on a poppy-seed bun with yellow mustard, chopped onions, green pickle relish, a dill pickle and all of the other added fixings to make what is known as a Chicago-style hotdog._

 _Erin's salivating mouth almost drooled just at the thought and Jay couldn't help but be amused at the sight. He walks from the bedroom door over to her side of the bed, and pouted almost instantly knowing that he'll have to be the one to burst her happiness, "We don't have any of that. You didn't go to the grocery store."_

 _She reopens her eyes to see him standing in front of her, "There's a diner six blocks over. It stays open 24 hours."_

" _You want me to leave the house?!"_

 _She grabs his hand, "Please."_

 _Already dressed in sweat pants, Jay turns to find a shirt, "That kid owes me," he jokes._

" _Big time," Erin adds with a bright smile._

 _After getting dressed and heading out of the house in the freezing weather, Jay manages to make it to the diner in record time. Light snowfall covered the streets as he sat inside the diner waiting for his wife's food. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Fortunately, the diner wasn't crowded and her food was finished ten minutes after he placed the order. Halstead shook the snow off his body the second he stepped into the house. He shut the front door and locked each latch, "I'm home!" He takes off his coat and lets it drop to the ground; he doesn't even have the energy to hang it up in the coat closet, "I got you a hotdog and I managed to keep it warm!" He throws his keys onto the side table before heading towards the staircase, "Erin!" No response as he climbs each stair slowly, "Babe, I got your hotdog with all the fixins.' Erin." He still gets no response, "Erin, your-" Jay stops talking at the sight of his wife, lying in bed fast asleep. Her rising and falling chest, her gentle snores and the small smile on her face prevented him from even getting upset; he had left out to get her a hotdog, only to find her asleep the second he gets back. Without waking her up, he kicks off his shoes and shirt, takes the hotdog downstairs to put it in the refrigerator and comes back up the stairs, physically and mentally exhausted and ready to go to sleep. Jay reenters the room and it takes him what feels like less than a second to climb into bed, slide beneath the covers and adjust himself behind his wife. His arm wraps around her and as he spoons her, he finds himself planting a small kiss to the back of her shoulder before falling asleep. His hand opened and lying flat against the curb of her large stomach, he feels a kick, it's not strong enough to wake Erin, but as he sleeps, he subconsciously smiles at the thought that in a month, she'll be here with them._

Time seems to slowly trickle by and Platt has noticed that Jay may be physically here, but mentally he's somewhere else, somewhere happy, and she leaves him there. She doesn't want to bring him back into reality, into a world where everything isn't as happy as whatever he's thinking about. From her seat, she can see the constant flow of ambulances arriving, wheeling in gurneys, doctors and nurses being dispersed and assigned to people based on severity. It's an emergency after an emergency in the hospital. Platt pulls her eyes away and turns to face a woman pacing a few feet in front of her and Jay. She has a shortness of breath and she's gasping loudly. No one, besides Platt, pays her any attention. Platt hears complaints from people around the waiting room; some have been here for a few minutes while others have been here for a couple of hours. The waiting room gets even more crowded when a family comes in, all looked banged up and bruised; they're arguing, apparently there was a car accident and some of their relatives were wheeled into emergency on a gurney. They're pointing fingers and laying blame. The driver, -Wesley- she overhears his name, is throwing up in a nearby trashcan, his mother rubbing circles into his back and trying to divert blame away from him.

Everything just seems so sad and so horribly wrong. Platt sees Jay still smiling and she desperately wants to join in his escape. She doesn't know what he's thinking about, but she's sure, almost positive, that it involves Erin. She starts thinking about her last memory with the detective. It was a few days ago. Lindsay was bored and stopped by the precinct on her way home from visiting Annie. Platt chuckles at the memory. Erin was crying. Trudy had to take her to the locker room to stop officers and civilians from staring. She envisions the short memory like it was yesterday.

" _I don't know why you're crying, but I'm sure everything will be okay," Platt awkwardly pats Erin's shoulder; she had no idea how to console a pregnant woman, "What's wrong?"_

" _That's the thing," Erin looks up at her, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, "I don't know!"_

 _Platt smiles, "You don't know why you're crying?"_

" _Yeah!"_

" _Yeah, you know? Or yeah you don't know?"_

 _Lindsay doesn't answer; she simply glares in Platt's direction. The sergeant takes a seat next to the detective and begins rubbing circles into her back, "I don't have any kids. And I don't know what you're going through, but everything is going to be fine."_

" _Sergeant, I don't need cheering up."_

" _Of course you do."_

" _No I don't."_

" _You're crying!"_

" _I'm pregnant! Pregnant women cry!"_

" _Well you shouldn't…"_

 _Erin wipes her eyes, "…tell my hormones that."_

" _Want me to go get Halstead?"_

" _So he can send me home? No thanks."_

 _Platt stands up, "Well, what are you going to do?"_

" _Just hang here for a minute, I need the adult company."_

 _The sergeant takes a quick glance around in confusion, "No one is in here."_

" _I text Burgess; she's going to sneak away and come down."_

 _Platt nods, accepting her answer, "And here I thought I was good, adult company."_

" _You're awesome company!"_

Platt comes out of her memory, chuckling at Erin's quick mood change, to find the team surrounding them with Jay giving them the update she gave him moments ago. Erin should be out of surgery any minute and once she's dilated fully, the baby is going to come. The pushing she did in Tyler's basement did nothing; she wasn't even fully dilated. It was so much going on at one time, Erin thought she needed to push, but it was the pelvic pressure on top of the lower back ache and the pain from falling down the stairs that had her sensors all over the place. The team disperses around the waiting room to either lean against a wall or sit in an empty seat. They needed time to think, space and just a minute to get themselves together. As Dawson takes a seat between an elderly man and a middle-aged woman, he pulls his phone from his pocket. The wallpaper on the screen is of his children; they're hugging each other, which was one of the few times they actually got along long enough to take a photo. He remembers the day Erin saw this photo and complimented him on his beautiful children.

" _They're getting so big," she gushed, swiping through the pictures of Dawson's children on his phone, "Time is going by and I'm getting so old!"_

" _Tell me about it," Dawson laughs, leaning against the kitchen counter in the Halsteads' house._

 _She extends his cell phone back towards him, "They're such good kids. If my baby acts as good as your kids when she's older, I'll consider myself lucky. You're a really great parent Antonio."_

" _I try."_

" _How do you do it?"_

 _He pockets his cell phone, "Do what?"_

" _Parent? Like, how do you do it? I don't know the first thing about being a mom. Bunny was my example until Camille came into the picture. How did you and Laura raise two good kids?"_

" _I want you to know that every parent has felt the way you're feeling," he assures, walking over to take a seat across from her at the dining room table, "You're not alone in your emotions."_

" _They say a book can't teach you how to be a parent."_

" _It can't," he agrees with a nod._

" _So how do you do it? How did you plan for a baby? How did you know the decisions you were making were the best to make? How are you parenting so easily?"_

" _It takes a village," he cracks a smile, attempting to pull an identical one from her face, "And when Laura was pregnant with our first, we were both so unprepared. I was freaking out. She was freaking out. I wasn't where I wanted to be in my career yet. We were living in a small one bedroom apartment. It was a mess. We went from that to what you're calling as great." He leans forward and sets his hand upon her shoulder, "My advice to you Erin, don't sweat the small stuff. You're going to make mistakes, we all do and we all did. Your baby won't love you any less for it. And the best way to learn how to parent is through experience. Trust yourself. Trust your partner. You and Jay have this all under control, and from one great parent to another, you got this girl," he squeezes her shoulder just as Jay walks into the kitchen with a box of pizza._

Antonio remains in his reverie, continually letting the memory play out from the conversation to them eating pizza at the dining room table, waiting for the rest of the team to show up. Atwater leans his shoulder against the wall as he spots Dawson smiling, his hands clasped over his opened legs as he leans forward and daydreams. The detective is standing close to the hallway, watching both the waiting room and the chaos occurring at the entrance and in the hallways of the hospital. Chicago Med is overcrowded today. The hallways resemble a hospital that would be deemed as underfunded when really Chicago Med is far from that. The next nearest hospital, the nurses are on strike so many of the ambulances are diverting towards here. And it shows. Some of the halls are crammed with patients on gurneys, some with worried relatives and some alone. Each of them aren't severe enough to need attending to at this precise moment, but they're all lying on their backs, eyes staring up at the fluorescent lights shining above. The overcrowded halls filled with groaning patients and anxious loved ones. Nurses walking through the halls with a hardened expression, all desensitized from the repeated exposure, the over-work, and the stress of the job. Atwater feels bad for everyone here; he hasn't been to Chicago Med much, but the times he did come, he was able to flash his badge, get answers and then go about his day, no connection to the victim or the perpetrator.

This is different though. Now he's on the other side. He's the loved one waiting to hear word. His badge won't give him answers. He's just another person in the waiting room, patiently waiting on an update about Erin. She was one of the most self-less people he knows; she cares, she connects and she does everything in her power to help. She helped Nadia, Annie, Kim, a long list of unnamed victims and she tried to help her own disappointment of a mother a countless amount of times. That's just who she is. Kevin smiles as he thinks back to when she even helped him out. He had stopped at one of her favorite food places and surprised her with dinner. She was home alone; Jay had to stay late to finish paperwork. Atwater needed some advice and he figured she was hungry so he reckoned it wouldn't hurt to bring over some food and talk, and if his problem came up, she's the type of person who'll offer advice for him to either decide whether to take it or leave it.

They sat at her dining room table with cartons of food spread out and open in front of them. Usually he's able to eat more than her, but he gets full first. He sits back and watches her silently eat the rest of the food while thinking of a way to bring up the topic. Fortunately though, he didn't have to think for long.

" _Alright," Erin leans back in her seat, "now that we both have eaten, what's the real reason you came over to my wonderful abode?"_

" _How did you know?"_

 _She gives him an obvious look, "You should have seen your face the second you finished eating. It's like you were trying to think about how to approach a subject. What's up?"_

 _Atwater scratches the back of his head, "I wanted advice."_

" _On?"_

" _Voight," he answers and then continues to explain, "I kind of messed up at work today. He sent me home early, but-"_

 _She interrupts, "you came here."_

" _Yeah. Want to know what I did?"_

" _It doesn't matter," she sits up and scoots her chair towards Atwater, "Voight will get over it, trust me. You have no idea how many times I screwed up. He'll get over it. You're human. We all make mistakes, especially Voight. He's made plenty and some of them you can't come back from." She informs, rubbing her chest as she feels heartburn simmering inside of it, "Sorry for the facial expression, but I'm having a little heart burn, it happens a lot during my pregnancy, especially when I eat spicy food," she smiles to lighten his bad mood, "but anyway, trust me, you have nothing to worry about. You're not getting fired if that's what you're thinking. Voight just needs a minute to calm down and if he doesn't, give me a call and I'll use my pregnancy hormones against him," the two chuckle at her joke._

 _Atwater nods, a smile now clearly on his face, "I should be going. Thanks. You're the best."_

" _No, I didn't feel like cooking and you fed me and my baby, so you're the best," she asserts, using Kevin's knee to push herself to her feet; he stands up afterwards, "Also," she walks him to the door, "if you need anything, advice or anything, you don't always have to bring me something to get it. That's not how friendship works."_

Mouse sees Kevin leaning against the wall, arms crossed and smiling too hard. His pearly white teeth shining as he thinks of something, what it is, Mouse doesn't know. He's currently at the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup as he spots Jay in his peripheral. His closest friend, the man who got him the job, the man who had his back for years was going through something and Mouse wanted to take his pain away. Mouse would trade places with Erin in a second. He owed that to Jay. He owed that to Voight for trusting him and hiring him for this job. The panic of Halstead's face was building with each second that passed. It creates an ache in the bottom of Mouse's stomach, one that he can't see going away until he knows Erin is safe and Jay is happy.

As he grabs the sugar to pour into his coffee, Mouse can't seem to concentrate on one thing. His mind is divided between his coffee, Jay, his team, the hospital and the chaos within it. His heart is beating faster as he tries to focus on exactly one thing, but it seems fruitless. His adrenaline rushes as he stirs his coffee entirely too fast. His thoughts seem to divide even more and he starts to experience negative thoughts, what-if scenarios that didn't end well for Erin or baby Halstead. The thoughts make him sweat; it makes his skin feel like it's on fire. The bad thoughts don't stop even though he's able to tune out his team, the hospital and the hectic noise. The thoughts come in bad waves, making him worriedly sip his scorching hot coffee while pacing in the waiting room. The bad thoughts are horrible and sweat seems to start covering his whole body. He needs to think of something else, something better and happier. He needs to channel those negative thoughts into positive ones. So, he takes the main subject of his thoughts –Erin- and he thinks back to the last conversation he had with her. They were all at the precinct. Erin stopped by to visit and bring lunch, but the team, minus him and Jay were out at a crime scene. She was sitting behind her desk, trying to wheel her chair completely up to it, but couldn't because her stomach was getting in the way.

" _Damn it!" He looks up at the sound of Erin's voice._

 _Cautiously, he gets up, "Everything alright? You're not going into labor, are you?"_

" _No," she gives him a look and rolls her eyes, "I'm trying to push myself up to my desk, but my stomach creates the biggest gap between me and it. I'm huge."_

" _You're not huge," he walks over._

" _I am huge."_

 _He gives up on arguing with her on that and decides to switch tactics, "You're still a badass." Mouse sees Jay reappear from the restroom as he takes a seat on the edge of Erin's desk, "You're the most badass pregnant woman I know."_

" _I'm a physically huge pregnant woman."_

" _You're not that big," Mouse responds, seeing as Jay brings over a water bottle for Erin; he hands it to her, "You're just plump, but it's because you're pregnant, right Jay." He looks over to his friend for help; he didn't want to say the wrong thing and make her cry._

" _Mouse is right," Jay nods._

 _He sighs in relief when Jay speaks up, "And don't forget you're a badass."_

" _But look at me," she looks between the two men, "I'm feeling pretty self-conscious right now. If I have to adjust my driver's seat once more because of my stomach, I'm going to cry. And I think I'm starting to lose that pregnancy glow."_

" _No," Mouse speaks up, shaking his head, "You're not. You need to take a look in the mirror Erin. You're hot."_

" _Alright," Jay nudged Mouse's side, "don't be hitting on my wife." The group laughs as the rest of the team soon joins them._

Ruzek sees Mouse almost spill his coffee on a stranger's lap. And it would have made for great entertainment if he wasn't in such a bad mood. Tyler had been right under their noses. He had been working with them for months to catch a killer that was right in front of them. He had been knocking them off their game, using his psychopathic tendencies to gain their trust only to betray them in the end. This was how they're spending the first day of December; it was almost the second day. This was the month for celebration; this was her last month of pregnancy and Tyler ruined it. He and Erin weren't best friends but they were coworkers, a team, she was the wife of his best friend and the best friend of the love of his life. It's hurting him almost as much as it's hurting everyone else. Adam is staring out of a window, watching ambulances come and go. Watching doctors and nurses run out of the hospital, meeting the paramedics at the back doors of the ambulance to wheel the patients served to only be a temporary distraction. The last time he saw Erin seemed to consistently make its way back into his head.

He was drunk. She had to pick him up from the bar after Jay called her. Apparently, Jay was called by the bartender to come get him, but Halstead was at work and couldn't get off until he finished up paperwork with Dawson and Olinsky. Jay called Erin to come get him. And she did, and the ride back from the bar to their house was awkward. She was mad. She was pulled from her sleep to come pick him up and he was too drunk to go home. She couldn't leave him unattended. When she helped him into the house and onto the couch, they both knew that was where he was going to crash. He was too drunk and she was too pregnant to get him upstairs to the guest room. She was so mean and sweet at the same time.

" _Here's a pillow," she tosses it towards him, "and I made up the couch for you. I also put an empty trashcan beside it so you don't puke on my carpet."_

 _He flops down tiredly onto the couch, "Thanks Erin," his words come out in a slur._

" _Here's a blanket," she extends the folded cover towards him, "Sleep tight."_

" _Wait."_

 _She turns around to face him, "What?"_

" _You're mad," he stated obviously._

" _Why would you think that?" She sarcastically responded, "Is it because I was called out of bed at two in the morning to come get you from a bar outside of town? You couldn't go to Mollys! Oh wait, could I possibly be mad because I'm eight months pregnant, it takes me hours to find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep in and then when I do, I'm woken up. If those aren't reasons, maybe it's because I talked to Kim."_

" _She told you?"_

" _Yeah," with wide, angry eyes, Erin nods, "let me get this straight, you two get back together because you got jealous of her going out on dates, you two were good, better than good actually, I've never seen you and her so happy and in-love. And she proposes to you and you TURN HER DOWN! Why would you do that?"_

" _I can explain," Adam hops to his feet and stumbles slightly, "Erin, I can explain."_

" _What do you want from her? What do you want out of a relationship with her? When are you going to grow up and give the so called love of your life everything she deserves?" Erin interrupts to ask him a marathon of questions, "You do everything in your power to get her back and then you reject her proposal…in front of a restaurant full of people! You lost her the first time because of this and now you're willing to lose her again for the same reason. You need-"_

" _I wanted to propose to her!" He abruptly shouts before she's able to get in another word; he calms down and lowers his voice the second he gets her undivided attention, "Her proposal caught me off guard. I wanted to propose, but she beat me to it and I panicked and said no."_

 _She's breathing loudly, "You could have went about it a different way," she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, "She's thinking the worse right now. And instead of talking things out like an adult, you run off to the bar and get drunk! The bartender said you tried to start like five fights, you were belligerent and aggressive."_

" _I screwed up," he whines, covering his face with his hands._

 _She watches him and she feels bad; a loud sigh escapes and she takes a seat next to him, "It's going to be okay," she awkwardly pats his back, "Kim loves you and once you explain the truth, it'll all be old news."_

" _I hope you're right," he leans his head on her shoulder._

" _I'm always right," she smiles and seconds after her statement, she hears loud snores. He's completely knocked out. And in the morning when he wakes up, he realizes that she stayed downstairs with him, not wanting to bother him because he needed the rest, especially if he was going to face Burgess the next day._

Olinsky walks back into the waiting room after recently stepping into the hallway to give Meredith and Lexi a call –an update- about Erin. They wanted to come down, but both Lexi and Meredith have work tomorrow. He promised to give them updates as he gets them, but other than that, it was nothing either of them could do to rush the process. As Al walks back into the waiting room, he sees Ruzek walk away from the window and take a seat next to a mute and distant Burgess. He slides his hand in hers before lifting her hand up and kissing the ring he placed there a day or two ago. Olinsky hears the clacking of keys coming from the receptionist as she pokes her head in the waiting room, scanning the varying amount of people in search of someone; she didn't find him and eventually left back out. He sees Voight, but he doesn't approach. If there's anything he knows about Hank, it's he wants to be left alone. The constantly repeated boring infomercials on the television drive them all crazy, Olinsky more so than everyone else. It's all he can focus on as he continues to scan the waiting room to look at the team, trying to deem who needs him the most right now. Ruzek is comforting Burgess, Platt has Halstead covered, Voight wants to be alone and Mouse and Atwater seemed to link up with Dawson. Everyone was covered.

They all wanted to rush the process. Olinsky wanted to know what was going on with Erin right now, not in ten minutes, not in an hour, not in a day; he wanted an update now, for all of their sake. He wanted to know for the baby's wellbeing, to rid Voight of the guilt he's feeling and to help Halstead feel some other emotion besides sorrow. Olinsky needed to know before his own brain shut down and accepted what may not even be true. He settles his thoughts, his mind on Michelle, on Lexi and Meredith. He couldn't imagine how Halstead is feeling, to have his wife and daughter in there and not being able to do anything to save them. At first, the idea of having a baby may not have been taken well for them, but they eventually grew to accept it. They were excited and preparing for the arrival of their daughter. Olinsky remembers just how excited she was three days ago when he paid her a visit.

He was off that day. He figured he should pay her a visit to see how she and baby Halstead were doing. To his amusement, she was absolutely bored out of her mind. She practically dragged him into the house when she saw he was at the door. She grabbed his hand and pulled him all the way into the living room and the entire time she talked and ranted and just absolutely enjoyed having an ear to listen to her complaints, _"You don't know how much I was craving human contact."_

" _I take it you're enjoying maternity leave."_

 _She takes a seat on the couch, "Not at all," Erin slides over to allow Olinsky to sit next to her, "It's so boring! And you guys are the best for finishing the nursery for me, but that gives me nothing to do but watch television and talk to myself." She leans her head back, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, both of her hands settle over her stomach._

 _He turns to face her, "I thought your friend, what's her name, Anna?"_

" _Annie," Erin kindly corrected._

" _I thought your friend Annie usually pays you a visit at least a few times during the week."_

 _Lindsay reopened her eyes and looked at the older detective, "She does, but Travis broke his leg snowboarding two weeks ago and she's been a little busy with that," Erin blows out a large breath of air before continuing, "And she got fired from her last job at Walmart and has been busy looking for work since."_

" _You know I think there's an opening for a position at the-"_

" _Not needed," Erin raises her hand to cut him off, "Jay and I have been talking and thinking about hiring her as a fulltime babysitter when I get off of maternity leave. Nothing is set in stone, but I'm really leaning towards the idea of it."_

" _That's big," Olinsky declares._

" _She's been a mom since we were teenagers so she's experienced. She's one of the strongest people I know; Annie has been through so much."_

" _Do you trust her?"_

 _It's a question that doesn't require silence or a minute to think; Erin knows the answer right away. She turns further to face Olinsky, bending one leg on the couch and adjusting the bottom of her large tank top, "If I'm considering leaving my kid with her, of course I do." And that says a lot about Erin's trust in Annie; it says a great deal about their relationship._

" _What about that guy Charlie?"_

 _Erin pulls her hair back and uses the hair tie around her wrist to pull it into a ponytail, "He's in Travis' life, not hers. Any communication between Charlie and her son is between them. Travis is 18 now and Annie gives him his space to handle whoever and whatever. And besides, she'll be watching the baby at my house and Charlie has no reason to come over."_

" _And if he does?"_

 _Her smile reaches her eyes, her dimples pierce into both of her cheeks, "I'm going to beat his ass. He knows to stay away."_

" _Alright Miss. Feisty," he laughs simultaneously with her, "lets dial it down a notch. I'm getting too old to be jumping into fights."_

 _Erin laughs even louder, shoving his shoulder and rolling her eyes, "You're not old Al."_

" _I'm old," he says matter-of-factly, grinning ear to ear, "but thanks though for the compliment."_

" _No problem," she responds, patting his leg before using it to push herself onto her feet, "So Al, what actually brought you over to visit lonely me?" He helps her stand fully._

 _He stands next, "Just wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing. Meredith actually wants you and Jay to come over for dinner one day this week."_

 _She clasps her hands together excitedly, "That would be great. I could use the conversation."_

" _When are you free?" Al questions, withdrawing his cell from his pocket the second it vibrates._

 _Erin sarcastically replies, "When am I not free?"_

" _How about you link up with Jay and see when he's free and we'll plan it around then?"_

" _Hopefully it's not too far away into the future," Erin remarks, leading her and Olinsky into the kitchen, "Jay's great and all, but you guys are overworking him and he's never really up for much conversation by the time he gets home."_

Olinsky silently chuckles in present time, thinking of the remainder of their conversation. He stayed with her; they talked, ordered food and watched a movie until Halstead came home. He promised to visit her again so she doesn't go out of her mind from the isolation. They had all made plans to have dinner on the fifth of December, it's almost the second and they didn't even get to have dinner and adult conversation like Lindsay wanted. Olinsky scans the waiting room and this time his eyes meet the eyes of Burgess; they're filled with tears. She's scared for her best friend. She feels herself wanting to jump right out of her own skin. Burgess feels like a child, trembling and terrified, needing the comfort of Ruzek as she waits to hear about Erin. She feels Adam's fingers trace circles around her palm, it's keeping him distracted, but it doesn't prove to have the same effect on her. He twirls the engagement ring around her finger, before lifting her palm to press his lips against it.

Burgess is sitting in the waiting room getting silent comfort from her fiancé. That was usually always Erin's job. She had a way about cheering Kim up within minutes and now she's not here to do it. Adam kisses her hand again as if the kiss will magically make her feel all better. It doesn't work and she slides her hand out of his. She's not in the mood to be comforted. She's not in the mood to be bothered; she just wants to be left alone with her thoughts. Kim leans forward on her elbows and uses her hands to cover her face, mindlessly running them slowly up and down. Her eyes are closed, it's late and on top of her emotions, she's tired and as time slowly passes, she thinks back to last week, a simpler moment in time. They went to grab food and were done, heading back to Kim's truck when Erin slipped and fell flat on her butt; it was on one of the absolute busiest sidewalks in the city during lunch hour. Kim could remember laughing at the look of complete embarrassment on Lindsay's face, _"It's not funny!"_

 _Kim continued to laugh, setting down her leftover bag of food, "I'm…not…laughing," she said between giggles while Erin remains sitting. Soon enough, Kim's laughter became contagious and Lindsay starts chuckling soon after. She's sitting on the cold pavement, red face from embarrassment and butt growing cold from the freezing pavement._

" _And I spilled my drink!" Erin whines through soft bursts of laughter, "That was a really good smoothie! And I spilled it all over my shirt! Pregnancy has made me such a klutz!"_

" _Come on," Kim waves, finally calming down, "get up."_

 _And if looks could kill, Burgess would be done. Erin's glaring up at Kim even though a smile is still evident on her face, "If I could get up by myself, don't you think I would have already. This seat is not comfortable at all."_

" _Oh, sorry," Kim extends her hand to which Erin grabs, "ugh," she's pulling with all her strength, "I don't want to insult you, but-"_

" _I suggest you don't talk," Erin retorts, irritatingly swatting Kim away._

" _Hey!" an unfamiliar male voice shouts causing the two women to glance around; they spot him, with two guys behind him, all of whom are jogging over, "Lady, are you okay?"_

 _She extends both hands towards them, "A little help getting up would be nice."_

 _Without argument, one grabs one arm, another grabs the other and the third man goes behind her. Teamwork pulls her to her feet and Kim is back at her side, using napkins out of her purse to wipe the spilt smoothie off Erin's jacket. Lindsay takes the napkin from her friend, "Thanks guys," she nods towards the men as they walk away, "and thanks for your lack of help," she jokingly retorts, "what would you have done if those guys didn't come over to help me up?"_

 _Burgess shrugs, looping her arm with Erin's and turns back to head towards the restaurant they just left out of, "Let's not worry about that. Come on Er, you've already had a rough day. I'll treat you to another smoothie."_

" _I'll forgive you if you make it a large."_

" _If a large is what you want, a large is what you shall get."_

Kim drags her hands down her face one last time before leaning back in her seat. The back of her head lays flat against the wall as she scans the room until she meets Voight's eyes. Besides her and Halstead, he's taking all of this the hardest. Hank tears his eyes away from Kim when he hears a toddler crying; he looks over to see the little boy in his panic stricken mother's arms. She's bouncing him as she speaks with a doctor. Whatever news she was informed wasn't delivered well. The woman suddenly breaks down. The doctor grabs the toddler from her arms moments before she drops to her knees. Someone died. He's sure of that; the woman wouldn't have reacted as strongly if it was better news. Hank understands how she feels; it was a few years ago when he was informed of his son's death. Justin had passed away six years ago in this very hospital. The team was there for him. Erin never left his side. He had told her weeks later that she was all he had left and now she might be gone.

Voight leans his forehead against the wall, his fists clench at his side and he tries everything in his power to refrain from punching it. Tyler was right under his nose. He accepted him into his unit. He had been played. This is on him. Voight cannot stop blaming himself. Maybe if he wasn't so desperate to solve this case as soon as possible, he wouldn't have allowed Tyler to temporarily join his unit? He wouldn't have so easily trusted him, taken his word and let him help. Tyler stood by them as they arrested Gregory Bishop. Tyler helped them create a connection between each victim, helped them create a character profile on the mystery assailant and worst of all; Tyler flirted and sought out to woo both female detectives in his unit. Hank pulls away from the wall to see each member of the team looking over at him nervously. They were scared about what he's going to do. And honestly, he didn't even know. He wouldn't know until he has an update on Erin and the baby.

As Hank begins clenching and unclenching his hand, he tries to do everything in his power to calm down, nothing was working, not pacing, taking deep breaths or even closing his eyes and thinking about his grandson. However, eventually the thought of his grandson led to a memory involving Erin. He had talked both her and Halstead into babysitting Daniel so he could join his friends for poker night. They had been reluctant until he convinced them it'll be good practice and preparation for when their baby came. Olive was sick and Daniel had been staying with his grandfather until she recovers. Voight finds himself smiling in present time as he remembers the look on Erin and Jay's face the second they stepped into his house and saw Danny running from the living room, to the dining room, to the kitchen and then back again. That day Voight tried to hold back a laugh when Erin exclaimed, _"He won't stop running around!"_

" _He's six!" Voight reminded._

" _Why does a six year old have so much energy?" Jay asked, watching in amazement as Daniel continues running around the house, "Where does he store it?"_

 _Erin interjected, "When is Olive coming back Hank?"_

" _You guys have this all under control right?" there's a huge smirk on Hank's face as he looks between the expectant parents, "This is practice for when the baby comes."_

" _I'm not birthing a six year old Hank!" Erin argued, reminding him of the clear distinction._

" _Look at it as practice."_

 _Lindsay glanced over her shoulder to watch Daniel kick off his shoes before continuing his energized run around the house, "You didn't even leave yet and we're already exhausted."_

" _Olive says to not give him any sugar after four pm or he'll never go to sleep, don't let him jump on the couch because he'll try, make sure he eats his vegetables, he always tries to stash them in his pocket," Voight begins listing off instructions, ignoring her expression of concern, "She's picking him up in the morning. I should be back around nine."_

" _That's in six hours!"_

 _He encouragingly pats her shoulder, "You have this."_

" _He's jumping on the couch," Jay snitched nervously._

 _Voight snaps his fingers in his grandson's direction, "Hey kid, get down! You know the rules!"_

 _Daniel jumps down from the couch without a huff or complaint and continues his run around the house, exerting the energy that has been building up all day. Erin continues to watch, growing even more exhausted than she once was moments ago, "Oh my gosh, I can't babysit my six year old nephew without feeling overwhelmed and defeated, how am I going to watch a newborn, especially by myself?" She turns to look at Voight and then her husband, "I can't be a mother."_

" _Yes you can," Voight asserts while Jay remains quiet; he's unable to comfort Erin because he's feeling the exact same way. How are they supposed to raise a kid when the thought of watching Daniel for a few hours scares them?_

" _Look at me! I'm a mess."_

" _You'll be fine."_

 _Erin continues to freak out, "You keep saying that."_

" _It's an instinct that's going to kick in."_

" _How can you be so sure?"_

" _Trust me," he squeezes her shoulder encouragingly, "I'm sure."_

 _Erin takes a step back and exhales a large breath of air, "Alright, I'm calming down, but you better leave before I change my mind."_

" _I'm leaving," Voight grabs his jacket off the coatrack and slowly backs away towards the front door, "He eats dinner at six and he should be in the bed no later than eight."_

" _Six, eight, we got it," Halstead saluted._

" _He's sleeping in Justin's old room," the couple nods simultaneously and Voight can still see the stress on their faces causing him to hesitate at the door, "Are you both sure that you have this under control? I don't want to leave you if you're freaking out. Kids can smell fear."_

" _I'm fine. We have this. Don't we Jay?"_

 _Halstead looks down to meet his wife's eyes, "Yeah, uh I guess."_

" _He doesn't sound confident."_

 _Erin waves for Hank to leave, "Voight go before you're late." She opens the door and smiles when Voight hesitates once again before walking out of it. In all honesty, Hank couldn't bring himself to leave right away, so he snooped. He peeked through the window and watched for the first couple of minutes Jay and Erin attempt to babysit their nephew. It was adorable and extremely funny. Jay chased him around. Erin waddled around. The couple did everything they could think of to exert all of his energy so come bedtime he would go down without a fight._

His memory, his flashback, it's suddenly interrupted at the sight of Will rushing into the waiting room. His eyes scan the room in search of their familiar faces and once everyone spots him, they immediately run over, maneuvering through the crowded waiting area in order to approach him, "How's Erin?" Jay is the first one to speak up as his eyes plead with his brother for good news, "How is the baby? How are they? What's going on?"

Will sets his hands on his brother's shoulders to calm him, "I'm not Erin's doctor, but I spoke to her OBGYN and managed to get an update. It's all touch and go right now; too early to tell, but Erin is only seven centimeters dilated and they need for her to be at ten so she can actually start pushing. Her doctor doesn't want to have to give her a C-section, especially after the minor trauma received to her lower abdomen, but if the baby is in anymore distress, with your permission Jay, they'll do the C-section."

"Why me?" His worried voice questions.

"…because it's surgery and it's a risk for infection among other things especially because the doctors would have to cut into the exact same area she was recently cut in, but let's not get ahead of ourselves," Will assures, squeezing his brother's shoulders, "Erin and baby are both looking good. She's seven centimeters, she has three more to go."

"Well where is she?" Voight's demanding voice shouts from over the doctor's shoulder.

Will turns to face the intimidating man, "She's being wheeled into her hospital room, the room where she'll deliver when it's time. She'll stay there and within a few hours, depending on how everything goes, the doctors will determine whether it's best to wait and allow her to deliver naturally or to just take her in for a C-section. The goal is to have both mommy and baby pull through and because of the trauma Erin received, this is a high risk delivery. They don't want to take any chances."

"Can we," the group turns to face Burgess when her small voice poses a question, "can we go see her? I mean, are we allowed to go back there?"

"I'll take you back," he waves for them to follow, "you all can't stay long, Jay can, but soon enough the rest of you will have to leave out. For one it's about to be too many visitors back at one time. And secondly, none of you signed in. I could get in a lot of trouble for this."

"Thanks Will, we really appreciate this," Voight mutters, firmly nodding his head towards Will in gratitude. Hank will never forget this.

Dr. Halstead and the team finally reach the outside of Erin's delivery room. The door is brown and dull like all of the other doors down the hall of the maternity wing. He grabbed the handle of the door, "Well, here we are," he smiles kindly and opens the door, revealing a brightly lit hospital room. Seconds later, the team floods into the room, Dr. Halsted closes the door behind after they're all inside, surrounding Erin's bed. It's a traditional, stereotypical hospital room, sparse and functional; Erin's hospital bed ready to transform into the bed for the purpose of delivery the second it's time for her to give birth. Relief washes over all of their faces as they take in the sight of her. She's very pregnant, dressed in a hospital gown with the injured side of her face cleaned and bandaged. Her hair flowed down her shoulders and mid-back as she lay comfortably on her side; she's unblinking and staring at the fetal monitor. She finds comfort in watching her daughter's heartrate, it's strong, and it appears to be healthy. One of the lines on the machine, alerts her to another contraction, forcing her head back against the pillow, making her squeeze her eyes shut and clench the sheets of the bed in her fists, "Ugh," she grunts, trying her best to make her way through this bout of pain. She feels someone press a kiss against her forehead and she opens her eyes to see it was Voight, she would respond, but the contraction is still passing through.

They sit with her, Atwater, Dawson and Mouse sit on the worn couch in the far corner of the room, and Burgess and Voight pull the two empty chairs up to the side of the bed as Halstead and Ruzek stand. Erin lays there quietly, keeping her eyes closed while matching her breaths to the beeping of the machines –one monitoring her daughter and the other monitoring her. The contraction is slowly going away and she rolls back onto her side to watch the fetal monitor again. It has been her regular pattern since waking up from surgery and being wheeled into this room. She'll watch and monitor her daughter's heartbeat until a contraction comes and once it passes, she turns right back to watch the monitor. Jay is worried; she hasn't spoken a word since they came into the room. Their presence offered moral support, but Halstead wanted to offer so much more. He wishes he could take the pain away. He wishes he can trade places with her. He wishes he could forward time and have this process over. Halstead flattens the side of the hospital bed with his hands before crawling in; she says nothing. She accepts Jay cuddling up behind her; both are now lying on their side staring at the fetal monitor, his arm thrown over her waist. Surprising to all of them, she didn't push him away. She quietly placed her hand over his and continued watching the machine while remaining on edge knowing that at any moment the next contraction will come.

Lindsay suddenly feels it approaching. The medication given to her when she was first rushed into the hospital to slow down her labor had worn off. Her contractions were coming at a faster rate, more often than they were earlier. She remains on her side and the hand that covers Jay's suddenly clenches around his, she's squeezing tight, so hard that he has to bite his lip to keep from making a noise. Burgess notices that the next contraction has hit and she jumps to her feet, wanting to do something to help and deciding maybe to distract Erin from the pain, "This is it," Kim announces, walking over to the fetal monitor, observing the line that portrays what's left of this contraction, "Baby Halstead is nine months in the making."

Erin grits, "You mean eight months," it comes out strangled as she talks through the pain, "She's not going to make it to nine."

"Some babies are ready to make their debut early."

Erin's eyes shut, squeezing Jay's hand isn't enough but it's all she has right now, "This wasn't her decision," she growls through gritted teeth, "Tyler made the decision for her."

"I'm excited and you should be too," Kim responds, reading the machine and noticing how this contraction is coming to an end, "This time tomorrow," she turns to face Erin, giving her the biggest smile she could muster, "you're going to be someone's mommy! Can you believe it?"

Erin's grin is limited to her mouth; it doesn't reach her eyes at all. It's not because she isn't happy, she is tremendously happy, it's just hard to show it when you're having contractions or had just gotten finished having a contraction. She continues to watch the fetal monitor, but it seemed Burgess initiating a conversation with her opened the metaphorical door for everyone else to start conversing. She's trying to listen to the beeping of the machine, she found comfort in it, but everyone keeps talking, "Can you all please be quiet?" She asks kindly and Dr. Halstead takes that as his queue to usher everyone out of the room, except for Jay. Against hospital policy, he had allowed all of them to come visit at one time and now that the time was up and visiting hours were almost over, it was time for everyone to head on out.

"You have this all under control," Hank asserts, patting her reassuringly, "Camille and Justin are both looking over you. Call me if you need anything."

Each person bids a see you later, Voight gives Erin a kiss against her sweaty forehead while Burgess squeezes her best friend's hand supportively, a nod of strength and endearment translated from one friend to the other. Erin appreciates it and even though she doesn't want to talk over the beeping machine, she does it anyway to give her best friend a peace of mind; she knows Burgess is taking this hard and she most likely won't see her until tomorrow morning and Erin knows that if Kim is going to get some sleep, she needs to talk, "The next time you see me," Lindsay manages to stretch a dimpled smile across her face, "I'm going to be someone's mom."

"And I can't wait," Kim genuinely smiles, sliding her hand from Erin's grip.

Erin tunes back into the beeping machine as her team is escorted out of the hospital room. Her brother-in-law bids a see you later since his shift just ended, but he has an early shift tomorrow morning. Jay's hand intertwines with his wife's again and they both watch the fetal monitor, finding comfort in her strong heartbeat, "I thought I lost her."

"You didn't, we didn't," Jay whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of his wife's head, "Remember what I told you, we're going to take our daughter home."

Lindsay repeats, "We're going to take our daughter home."

Periodically throughout the night nurses would come into the room every once in a while to check to see how far she has dilated. On and off through the night she experienced contractions ranging in length and intensity. It was an hour later when the doctor decided Erin and the baby were safe enough for a vaginal deliver that he could rule out giving her a caesarian section. Hours continue to pass, it's now a couple hours into December 2nd and when the nurse checks this time, she gives the parents a smile, "It's time."

A breath of relief is released as Erin grins, "I can have my baby now."

"You can push once the doctor comes in," she replies, pulling off the gloves and tossing them into the nearby trashcan, "I'll go page him. Do you also want to get an epidural?"

She whispers calmly, "No…no epidural."

"Are you sure?"

"How many centimeters am I dilated?" She looks from Jay to the nurse.

"Nine."

"I don't need an epidural. I made it this long without it."

The second the nurse left to get the doctor another contraction hit; it's the most painful, the most severe and the most intense. She pushes Jay out of the bed. The grunts are no longer present, she's in a full out scream, a plea for Jay to help take the pain away. There's nothing he could physically do, but offer her his hand which she gladly accepts. Jay watches the machine and tries to patiently wait for the contraction to pass, but it's taking too long, the pain she's squeezing into his hand is immense, "Babe," he attempts to coach her through the contraction, "It's okay."

"It is not fucking okay!" She snaps, squeezing his hand even harder.

Fortunately, for the both of them the contraction soon stops and the doctor walks in with two nurses following closely behind him. He greets the couple, but Erin is too exhausted to respond. She's watching the machine, regrettably waiting for the next contraction to hit. And when it does, the nurses are already in the process of transforming the bed in preparation for delivery. With this contraction came a pain that ruled her whole body. In this particular moment, this contraction tore into her; she doesn't even notice that the doctor is sitting on a stool at the other end of her opened and bent legs and suddenly the pain ended.

Jay smiles nervously, running his hand through her hair, "You're doing great babe."

"Your husband is right Erin," the doctor assured, checking her dilation, "And you are fully dilated so we're going to start pushing at the next contraction. Are you ready?"

She wasn't, but it was time to push. She felt the contraction and she felt the urge. With a throaty grunt she followed orders and pushed until she was told to stop –once was enough for now. This labor, this pain was something Erin couldn't have imagined. There's no word that could be used to describe labor pains –nothing at all. No analogy comes to mind. And suddenly the pain comes back and she's being coached to push again, it hurts. She's holding Jay's hand, crying and leaning forward, "Is it too late to change my mind?"

"You're doing fine," Jay reassures.

"That's easy for you to say! You're not attempting to push something the size of a watermelon out of something that's definitely not watermelon size!"

Her stomach tightened and her own scream filled the room. Erin feels too weak to push through this contraction, but tries anyway; they're all coaching her, Jay is reminding her of the breathing exercise they learned together until the contraction passed. The doctor speaks in a resigned voice as he gives the next instruction, "Okay Erin, I want you to push through your next contraction when it comes. Okay?"

"I can't push it out," Erin admits, suddenly on the verge of tears, "You're going to have to pull her out of me. I can't do this!" It's a broken sob and the doctor looks over for Erin's husband to step in, "I can't do it Jay."

"Yes you can," he asserts, cupping the uninjured side of her face, "Do it for you. Do it for her. Do it for me. You're halfway there."

"It hurts," her voice breaking breaks his heart.

"I know babe, but you're the strongest person I know," he kisses her forehead, "If there's anyone I know who can get through this, it's you."

Once she agrees, the contraction soon hits her right after that causing for Lindsay to arch forward, grit her teeth, make a gurgling screaming noise as she squeezes Jay's hand with all of her strength. His hand turns a painful shade of red that he accepts as long as she keeps pushing. Her throat is dry. Her face is sweating and red. This process is repeated for what feels like a dozen times until the doctor gleefully shouts, "I see her hair!"

Jay excitedly announces, "She's coming!"

"I know she's coming! I can feel it!" Erin spats, flopping back and resting temporarily, "I am never doing this again!" She's completely out of breath and tired.

"I'm going to need one big and long push next, okay?"

She nods and leans forward, preparing to give the next push the second the contraction hits. And when it does, she follows the doctor's coaching and shuts her eyes to push with every ounce of her being. Soon, everything becomes a blur, she remembers hearing the doctor mention the baby's head and then the baby's shoulders until suddenly it's over.

Just like that, the baby is here. Erin gives a watery laugh as she exhaustively lays back. Her eyes scan the room in search of her daughter; she had thought that after the umbilical cord was cut, her baby would be handed to her to hold temporarily. Erin sees the doctor quickly hand the newborn over to a nurse as Erin quickly looks over to her husband, "What's wrong?"

"Erin," Halstead whispers, eyes still trained on the nurses, "she hasn't cried."

Lindsay wants to jump out of bed. She wants to do something. She pushes Jay away and points towards the nurses "Go do something! Go help them! Why won't someone tell me something? Why isn't my baby crying?!" The room is quiet; it's noticeably and eerily soundless. Halstead doesn't know what to do; he stays by Erin's side as she silently cries and struggles to see what the nurses are doing. She wants to get out of bed, but she's currently being cleaned up by another nurse as her doctor tends towards her little girl. The silence in the room is deafening –it's ironically loud. And suddenly, the silence ends and a piercing and high-pitched sound of a newborn's cry fill it. An infant's cry spreads through the room causing for Jay to immediately burst into happy tears and with a voice that sounds broken, he whispers, "You did it."

Elation and relief fill the room. Jay cups his wife's face and passionately kisses her. The last 24 hours had been tough. Their girl was finally here. She was currently being checked upon by the doctor, he's listening in on her breathing as she wails loudly –the sound is music to her parents' ears. The doctor pulls the stethoscope away from the infant, "Sounds like strong lungs, but since she's a preemie we want to make sure."

The new parents were briefly shown their daughter and the sight of her was absolutely captivating. She was beautiful and as quickly as they've been shown her was just how quickly they took her away for overnight observation. Their baby had light brunette hair, she was pink and her eyes were wide open and alert. She had seen her baby. They had seen their daughter. And it made the fact that they're officially parents so much more real. They had waited months for this moment, hours for this labor, and it made the finale so much grander. She doesn't even remember being cleaned up. She doesn't even remember the doctor and nurses leaving the room. She does however pay attention to Jay's phone call, "She's a month early and was taken to the NICU, but the doctor seems positive. She's breathing fine, a little underweight, but she is expected to make a full recovery." Her husband is beaming as he walks back and forth in front of Erin's bed, "Her birthday is December 2nd, and she was literally born like ten minutes ago."

Even though she wanted to bask in her new found motherhood, she was exhausted, extremely tired. The sleep she fell into was peaceful. The dark days seemed bright. The sun seemed to exist within her heart, within her world in the form of her daughter. She hasn't even held her yet and she's already smitten. Lindsay looked into her hazel eyes, so perfect, so innocent and so strong and filled with love. She had thought she loved her daughter before, but actually seeing her, looking into her eyes, taking in every physical feature made her fall in love with her even more. She would do absolutely anything to protect her daughter and once she looked up at Jay as he spoke to the team on the phone about their daughter, she knew the same can be said in regards to him. She was someone's mom. She was actually someone's mom. And Erin happily fell asleep knowing that.

When light snores fill the walls of the hospital room, Jay becomes aware of his wife's slumber. After everything she had been through today, she deserved a good night's rest. Halstead hit the light and the room was immediately submerged in darkness, he steps out into the hall, "Thanks."

Burgess extends the bag, "No problem. If there is anything else you guys need me to do, do not hesitate to ask. How is she?"

"…asleep."

"She deserves it," Burgess replies, walking side by side with Jay in the direction of the exit, "I just can't imagine having surgery done to me without any pain medication or any source of comfort. And I keep thinking about how she shared her fear of having a C-section with me," they come to a stop in the hallway; the chaos that was once in the hospital seems to have fizzled away, "I just feel so bad because I comforted her and told her she wasn't going to have one."

"She didn't," Jay reminded, setting his hand against Kim's shoulder, "Erin didn't have to have a C-section. She was able to deliver naturally. The little one gave us a little scare but the doctors have her in the NICU overnight for observations."

"So I guess seeing her is not an option?"

"Unfortunately, you all won't be able to see her until tomorrow; she's being observed and they're running tests to make sure she's a healthy preemie."

Burgess adjusts the strap of her purse around her shoulder before sighing, "Well I guess I should be getting on out of here. Ruzek is parked in a no-parking spot so I should get going."

"Thanks again for picking up and bringing the hospital bag," he proclaims, raising the bag into the air and dangling it in between them.

"It wasn't a problem at all," she waves it off, slowly backing towards the exit, "Give Erin a hug for me. The team and I will probably be back once visiting hours start so that's early in the morning. I expect all tests to be done with baby Halstead and for her to be in the room with her parents, if not, someone will have to answer to Aunt Kim."

Jay salutes and chuckles at her response while watching her disappear from the hospital. He adjusts his grip around the overnight hospital bag that was packed weeks ago and begins heading in the direction of his wife's hospital room. She's still asleep when he enters. She's laid back, legs stretched out, one arm dangling off the side of the bed while the other is thrown over her stomach. She was sleeping peacefully and without disturbing her, he lifts a chair and sets it down beside her bed. The worn, plastic chair will have to do for the night. Jay takes a seat, crosses his arms against the edge of the bed and lays his head down in the folds until he falls asleep. It takes a minute because he's uncomfortable, but pretty soon the exhaustion, the worry, the fear, the anger and the absolute relief all caught up to him in one moment making the dozing off period of the night better attainable.

At some point in the night Jay feels a hand nudging against his arm; he tries to ignore it, but it persists. The hand is gripped around his wrist and yanks to unfold his arms, "Jay," he hears his wife whisper, "wake up." He stirs. It was still dark in the room; it was still night outside. It was still time to sleep. Halstead pulled his wrist from her grip and leaned back in the seat, trying to find another comfortable position to fall asleep in without being bothered, "Jay."

His eyes remain closed, "Is something wrong?"

"Get in the bed with me."

Without argument or rebuttal he stands. The chair was too uncomfortable that her offer was one he couldn't refuse. He kicked off his shoes, climbed into the bed once she moved over and spoons her from behind. His chest against her back, his arm draped over her waist and they're both facing the direction of the window, watching the bright stars illuminate the dark sky. Sharing their body heat with one cuddled against the other, Erin's hand intertwined with her husband's as his remained resting against her stomach, "Does it feel weird now that your arm is able to wrap completely around me?" She smiles when she hears him chuckle and seconds afterwards she rolls around to face him; his arm still draped over her waist, her head now laid against his chest, "Jay."

"Hmm"

Her hand caresses the side of his face, "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I am?" He teases, leaning in to kiss her hand, "What about the baby?"

"…her too," Erin laughs, snuggling further against him, pulling the sheet over both of their shoulders, "Truth?"

"What's up?"

Even though the room is basked in darkness, she looks up at him; their faces inches apart, "I kind of miss being pregnant."

"What?" He peers down at her with an obvious smirk on his face, "You ready to have another?"

"No. God no!" Erin proclaimed, hand falling to cradle her now empty stomach, "Only one baby, her. It's just…," she shrugs when she feels his arm pull her closer towards him, "I thought I had more time. I wasn't ready for her to be here just yet. I had another month to go. I had another month to mentally prep myself. I had another month to spend completely linked to her. I guess I miss the connection, feeling her and helping her grow. Regardless of how I felt, I wasn't alone. She was with me everywhere, but besides that, I hate all the other stuff about pregnancy."

His arms wrapped around her brings a sense of protection, like she's untouchable, and he knows it and kisses her against her forehead before responding, "She made it worth it though, right?"

"I feel like I'm supposed to say yes, but considering I had her a few hours ago and the whole Tyler incident, I deserve to say I don't know…" her fingers trail up and down his arm, "I love her, I want her here, but gosh Jay, the pain was indescribable."

"I respect that."

Another silence falls over the room. Jay takes that as his chance to get some sleep, knowing that his wife was tired with every reason to be, he had assumed the silence meant that she had fell asleep. Both of his arms circle around his wife, they're chest to chest, her face lay against his shoulder and when he feels her hand rub up and down his back, he knows she's still awake. He couldn't see if her eyes were opened or closed, but he knew her enough to know that if she wasn't sleep right now it wasn't because she wasn't tired, it was because she had thoughts racing in her head that wouldn't slow down enough to get sleep.

"We have a baby Jay." One of her thoughts is voiced.

And her sudden comment pulls a smile onto his face, "We do. Can you believe we're parents?"

"I miss her already." He can feel her words vibrate against his chest as her head remains lying against it; her hand still rubbing against his back.

"We'll see her tomorrow. Tonight is for running tests."

"She's so small," Erin expressed with concern.

"And she's strong," Jay adds.

Erin gushed, "And she's so cute!"

"The cutest," he agrees.

"That yawn she did," Erin draws her head back to glance up at her husband, "Did you see it? It was so adorable Jay."

He chuckles; she feels the waves of his laughter against her, "Are we going to be those parents that find every natural bodily function she does adorable?"

"You're damn right," her assertion was loud and clear.

Brushing a strand of brown hair away from his face, the laughter in the room dies down and the mood grows serious, "How are you feeling?"

"…like I just had a baby," she answers, as his lips pepper kisses against the side of her mouth.

A Cheshire grin spreads across his face, "Mission accomplished then," he holds his hand up in the air and waits her for her to high-five it, and when she does, he holds it and intertwines his fingers with hers. With their hand still intertwined, she brings his towards her, "You were a great partner," Erin pecked his hand, "I don't think I would have been able to do this without you."

"I love you."

Their hands separate and his arm wraps back around her waist, "I love you too. We should get some sleep," he whispers the second after hearing her yawn.

"Yeah, it might be the last night we get some."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Her brow raises, "Alright, I'll remember that when she wakes up at three a.m. crying."

"This is definitely going to be the hardest job we've ever done."

Her eyes close after she nods, "Oh, definitely."

"You know we still don't have a name."

She was half asleep, "We should actually get a start on that," another yawn arises as she struggles to keep her eyes open, "I want a name with a meaning that we connect with; something not common, something different, something safe," her voice is groggy and she finds herself struggling to stay awake, "something that resonates with the both of us."

"When you think of her, what comes to mind?"

She stirs, reopening her eyes to answer, "…a safe place; my safe place."

"What do you mean?"

"The thought of her kept me going when I was in Tyler's basement," she admits, her eyes drifting close as she continues to speak, "the thought of her kept me going, it kept me focused and it kept me safe. If I can get through that just by the thought of her, I can get through anything when I'm actually with her; she's my safety net, my escape, my safe place."

"I got it," Jay mutters the announcement, and moves his lips against her ear to whisper the name. He sees a smile tug at her lips as she finds comfort and approval in the name given. It's perfect. The couple dozes off peacefully, knowing that their daughter's name was chosen and tomorrow it will be imprinted permanently onto her birth certificate.

When sunshine beamed through the window, Erin felt the light shine upon her face. It causes her to stir; it causes her eyes to open and scan the room when suddenly, she sits up in an instant second, "Jay!" He jumps awake when she shakes him.

Halstead sits up, "What's wrong? What happened? Is it the baby? Is she okay?" He's looking around the room, expecting to see a doctor, the team or the baby, someone besides his wife, but when he doesn't, he turns to face her, a look of clear distraught on her face.

"Tyler, he's the serial killer!"

"We know," Jay whispers, taking a hold of her hand, "We solved it in time."

"What happened?"

Jay fills her in. He starts with the character profile which led to them questioning why she hasn't shown up at the precinct yet. He tells her about the team putting their heads together and realizing that Tyler was behind it all, or at least, he knew more than what he was leading on. He reminds her of everything that happened when they got there, when they freed her, when the paramedics came and took her away and each word brought back a memory, however, when she left, she didn't know what happened. She didn't know anything about the case. Erin sits up against the back of the bed and folds her legs, "What happened after I left?"

Halstead looks up at her and as he tells her the dreaded events of that night, he thinks back to them. He was angry. He was enraged. He wanted justice and at the moment he figured going to prison would be too easy of a punishment after what he did. Jay remembers seeing Voight's gun pressed against the side of Tyler's head, and some irrepressible force pushed him to say, _"Do it."_

 _Kim jumps from her seat on the stair, "Voight, no!" She runs over._

" _Do it." Jay repeats his earlier demand._

 _She shouts again, "No!"_

" _Do it!"_

" _No!"_

 _Jay immediately turns to face Kim, his eyes are wide and manic as he struggles to not direct his anger towards her, "You don't think he deserves this?"_

" _He deserves a lot," Kim avows, slowly approaching her best friend's husband, "but this isn't something Erin would want."_

 _His eyes peer into hers, "How do you know?"_

" _I'm her best friend!"_

" _I'm her husband!"_

" _And I raised her," Hank interjects, hovering his finger over the trigger, "and this is something that I want. This is something that I need to do."_

" _It is not up to us," Burgess argues._

 _Jay shakes his head in disagreement, "Voight, do it."_

" _Sergeant no," she pleas, rushing up to him, "don't do this. There are officers upstairs. They can take him to the district, book him and throw him in jail! We need to go to the hospital."_

" _Let him do it!" Jay shouts in disagreement._

" _I can't because I know you two will never forgive yourselves. You're not like him! You're not monsters! Jay, you are not like him. You won't be able to live with yourself if you take justice into your own hands," she explains, eyes averting back and forth between him and Voight. Tyler remains on his knees, no hint of remorse evident on his face as he waits for his fate._

 _Halstead stares at his; his own eyes grow watery at the lack of remorse, at the confidence and poise embedded on Tyler's face. He doesn't care what happens to him. Whatever the decision they make tonight, Tyler doesn't care; he'll accept it either way. That's what pains Jay the most. He wants him to beg and plead like all of his victims did before him. He wants him to suffer like he made his victims suffer. Jay just wanted to give him what he deserved. Tyler stared down at the ground, mind completely distant from the situation. He wanted the guy to beg, to plead with them to spare his life, to apologize for all of the lives he stole, apologize for hurting Erin, but he said nothing. And his silence is deafening, it speaks volume and it forces Jay to turn and grab Kim's arm, "Let him do it! He tried to kill my baby!"_

" _And he will pay for that!" Burgess snatches her arm out of his grip._

" _How can you be so sure?"_

" _Because I have faith in the justice system; I have faith that it won't allow someone like that to walk out a free man," she approaches Jay, hands placed on his shoulders as she watches the tears fall from his eyes, 'We have all the evidence we need! We have this!"_

" _He tried to kill my baby Kim!"_

" _I know, and I hate him for it. I hate him so much, but we need to be there with Erin. We need to lend our support and attention to her. She needs us more than him right now."_

 _Jay pushes her hands off of his shoulders, "He tried to kill my baby!" He breaks this time, forcing Ruzek to stand up and walk over to him and pull into a much needed hug._

" _Can you take him upstairs and send the officers down to take Tyler to the district?" Jay overhears Burgess ask Ruzek, and in the hug, he feels his best friend nod._

 _And when Adam grabs his arm and begins tugging him towards the stairwell, Voight calls out, "Halstead," he stops walking and turns around to face him, "I should do this. His life does not deserve to be spared; I can make it look like a suicide."_

" _I want you to do it," Jay agrees, snatching his arm from Adam's hold._

" _If you do this," Ruzek finally interjects into the conversation, "Voight, you'll be a murderer and Jay, you'll be an accomplice! Don't ruin your life for him!"_

 _Dawson and Atwater reappear downstairs; they missed the conversation, but by the looks on the team's face and the barrel of Hank's weapon pressed against Tyler's head, they gathered enough information to assume what's going down. Antonio sees his boss, he jumps down the last three stairs and pushes through the team, "Sergeant, hand me the gun."_

" _He deserves this," Hank's hand trembles; he's trying to compose himself and keep the weapon still, but with Antonio slowly approaching, extending his hand towards him, he finds himself distracted and dividing his time between looking at his detective and Tyler._

" _That's not your decision to make," Dawson is casually reaching for the weapon; "Let's do this the right way," Voight moves the weapon away from Antonio, "Come on."_

" _Halstead and I…we need this."_

 _Antonio's eyes meet Jay's, they plead with him to do the right thing. He has always looked up to and respected Dawson; he was his mentor. If Antonio gave him his word, he'll believe him, "What's going to happen to him?"_

" _He'll be locked away. He'll never see the light of day again. He's going to pay for everything he has done to Erin, to every one of his victims."_

 _Halstead looks up to meet Voight's gaze; it still remains distant and angry, "I want you to do it," the team disappointedly sighs until he continues, "but I need you not to."_

 _Antonio grabs Tyler by the handcuffs and pulls him up to his feet. He shoves the man forward once and then twice until they reach the bottom of the stairs, "Stop Dawson. That's an order!"_

" _There are two uniformed police officers outside. They'll take Tyler to holding and processing. You need to go be with Erin," Antonio turns to Jay, "And you need to be with your wife."_

 _The gun is trained towards Tyler until Dawson takes a step in front of him, "Move."_

" _No."_

" _This isn't about you Antonio."_

" _If you kill him you'll be just like him."_

 _Dawson's words are unheard on Voight's ear as he barks another order, "I said MOVE!"_

" _If you shoot him, you'll have to shoot through me," he stands firm; each detective in the room looking back and forth between the two, fearing the sergeant's possible reaction, "Let him suffer in prison; death is too merciful for him." He turns towards Jay, voice and eyes pleading, "Help me convince him to stop."_

" _I can't," Jay shrugs off._

" _You can."_

" _Why should I?"_

" _Because you're going to be a father," Antonio answers; his own eyes on the verge of tears, "If you both do this, there is going to be an investigation done through internal affairs and Jay, you could possibly be taken away from Erin and your daughter. It's not worth it."_

 _And that was enough to convince Jay. While every fiber of his being wanted Hank to go through with it, he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. Deep down, it wasn't the right thing to do at all. Against his earlier judgement, Halstead turns to face Voight, "I need you not to do this."_

" _What if I need to do it?" The sergeant's voice growls as the gun remains trained on Antonio currently shielding Tyler._

 _Jay takes a step towards him, "It's not about us."_

" _Sarg, it's not about us," Jay repeats, reaching forward and snatching the weapon from Voight's grip, "It's not about us."_

He didn't get a chance to tell her the remainder of the story; he didn't get a chance to tell her that the officers took Tyler away and they quickly got to the hospital as soon as possible. He didn't get a chance to say any of that because by the middle of his story, her arms were swallowing him in a hug. She's sitting up on her knees on the side of the hospital bed, both of her arms wrapped around him, and squeezing him tight, "Thank you. After what Voight did to Justin's killer…I-"

"You don't need to explain," he whispers, pecking against her cheek.

The two separate. Neither had any sense of time, but they knew it was around morning since the sun was beaming brightly. Erin disappeared to use the restroom and once she was done, the couple brushed their teeth and washed their face with some of the packed necessities in their overnight hospital bag, fortunately brought to them last night by Burgess.

As they leave the in-room restroom, Halstead turns on the hospital room light, "I'm just glad you remained strong. You fought."

"Yeah, well, you are worth fighting for," Erin replies, as she starts making the bed, "You and the baby were worth fighting for."

Before he's even able to respond, the door to their room is opened and a hospital bassinet is wheeled into the room, "We have someone who has been dying to see her parents." A shortness of breath is felt between the parents; they're both speechless and overwhelmed that it's finally the moment they can see, meet, hold and just love their daughter completely. Erin drops the pillow she was fluffing up and diverts her attention and her movement towards the nurse and her baby, "Oh my goodness," she's overwhelmed as she lifts the swaddled baby up into her arms, "this is really happening. Jay," she calls for her husband to come over, "look at her."

Halstead peers over his wife's shoulder at their newborn, rested securely in her mother's arms swaddled in a white blanket with a small hospital, newborn cap securely snugged on the infant's head. The nurse shuts the door behind her, "I'm here to teach you how to breastfeed," she informs, wheeling the bassinet over towards the bed, "You can take a seat on the bed." The next few moments seem to fly by as he watches as the nurse teaches his wife how to breastfeed, and the second his daughter latches on and begins eating, his heart suddenly starts beating faster. They're definitely going to be those parents who find amazement in every little thing their daughter does. With her opened eyes, she stares up at her mother as she consumes her breakfast. His wife's own eyes peer down at their daughter; eye for eye, they beam into each other's orbs and the small newborn has no idea the effect it has on her mother.

"How do I know when she's done?" Erin doesn't look away from her daughter when her question is posed. She remains engrossed in every little movement her daughter makes.

"She'll unlatch or stop eating," the nurse answers, coming over to check, "She's done. She shouldn't be too hungry. We fed her last night and about an hour ago."

Erin adjusts her shirt, "How do I know when she's hungry again?"

"She'll let you know," the nurse smiles, watching as the new mother stared down adoringly at her daughter.

Jay steps forward, "What about her tests? How are her lungs? Her breathing?"

"Did she stop breathing again?" Erin picks up on the questioning and continues it, "Were her tests looking positive? Is there anything we should keep an eye on?"

"She's fine. She's small, a bit underweight, but she's fine."

The new parents sigh in complete relief. Erin pulls the cap off the newborn's head and lays her down, on her back, in front of her. The baby's eyes are opened and she's embracing the world, her mother, peering down at her. She un-swaddles the newborn, "Jay, can you pass me the hospital bag? She's already in a diaper. I'm going to put her in a onesie."

"Getting her ready for visitors," the nurse commented, beaming happily as she watched the two parents dress the baby –who is less than a day old- in a onesie.

"When does visiting hours start?"

The nurse glances at her wristwatch, "It starts at nine am. It's ten minutes to nine."

The second Erin finishes dressing the baby in a purple onesie with a pink heart in the center, the nurse disappears to give the new family their well-deserved alone time. Lindsay lifts her baby back up and through her own exhaustion from last night's events, she smiles –it was an overwhelming urge to release the biggest grin. Her eyes scan her newborn's face, her wide innocent hazel eyes looking up at her mother, revealing the trust, the endless love and the absolute dependence she has on the woman holding her. In this moment, she starts to cry; the tears that fall are a mixture of the love, the maternal instinct and the protectiveness she had for her baby. How could she have lived before her? Now that she has her, she can't even remember how she was able to function without her. The little girl was only a few hours old and she was by far one of the strongest people Erin has had the fortune of meeting. Her eyes eventually close and a newborn baby smile arrived minutes afterwards; she had to be having good dreams. The smile, the smile that Erin cannot stop looking at reveals dimples piercing into her newborn's cheeks; the smile that filled her with love and a feeling that she has never known to exist in the world until now. The new mother looks up to meet her husband's eyes; he's looking at his two girls with an indescribable adoration, "Do you want to hold her?"

Gently and carefully, the infant is passed from one parent to the other. He cradles her, like a new father, nervously yet cautiously in his arms. When her eyes reopen minutes later, he's able to have his own peer into hers; eye for eye, they're looking into each other's soul. With the newborn secured in one arm, body laid against his chest, he takes his finger and slides it into her closed fist; her tiny hand can barely fit around his pinky, but he enjoyed watched her subconsciously attempt to do it. Jay walks slowly around the room, watching as her eyes take in the strange world around her. Technically, her newborn eyes are blurred; her vision is not supposed to start to settle in until weeks later, but the thought of being able to view the world through eyes not accustomed to it yet has him looking forward to the future. It has him looking forward to seeing and experiencing the world, the city, love and life through the innocent eyes of his daughter. And when her eyes slowly close once again, he carefully sets her back into the bassinet and wheels it even closer towards the bed her mother was currently sitting on.

Erin's eyes were so focused on the child that she didn't even see or feel her husband take a seat next to her. They're both engrossed by her image, by her smile and by her presence that their surroundings don't even seem important. Jay leans forward, his finger gently sliding against his daughter's dimpled cheek, "She's so perfect."

Lindsay temporarily breaks eye contact to look over at her husband, "Be careful saying that."

"You know what I mean," he smirks; eyes are still trained on the infant.

"Yeah, I do," she replies, sliding closer to her husband to lean her head against his shoulder, "I just can't believe I ever doubted having her."

"I know what you mean."

A silence falls between the couple as they sit and watch their daughter nap peacefully; a part of them actually watches to ensure that's actually okay, that she won't stop breathing and that the doctors didn't make a mistake. They watch her to convince themselves that it's all real; she's actually here, safe and sound and most of all, she's healthy. As they continue to watch her, they fill with even more love for the little girl. She's a stranger, someone they had just met, and already they're entranced. They hear a gentle knock on the door, and the couple undesirably pulls their eyes away from their daughter to see who's entering the room; it's the team. They're quietly tip toeing inside holding balloons, teddy bears and cards, each sporting a grin a mile wide on their faces. Burgess gasps in amazement when she approaches the bassinet, each member of the team slowly surround it. Without taking her eyes off the newborn, Kim extends the teddy bear towards the new parents, "Oh my goodness, look at her, she's so freaking small!"

"She's tiny," Atwater adds.

With his hand pressed against the small of Kim's back as he peers down into the bassinet, Ruzek comments "She looks so fragile. I'm scared if I touch her I might break her."

"She makes me want to have another," Dawson remarks, setting the vase of flowers down on the bedside table, "She'll definitely give anyone who looks at her baby fever."

Olinsky hands over his congratulations card, "This is from me and Meredith. And Lexi told me to tell you both that she's only a phone call away if you ever need a babysitter."

"We'll definitely probably take her up on that offer," Halstead agrees.

"She looks so precious," Platt declares, metaphorically feeling her heart melt at the sight of a small smile appearing on the little girl's face, "Look at those dimples."

And suddenly, the infant stirs awake before erupting into a large sob. Her little face turns red and her arms stretch out as her little lungs helped her scream at the highest volume. Burgess looks at her best friend, using her eyes to beg for permission to lift her up. Erin agrees and moments afterwards the newborn is scooped into Kim's hands, "Hi," she coos, bouncing the infant in her arms, "Hi little one."

Ruzek toys with the child's fingers, "My hand is like ten times bigger than hers."

"Want to hold her?" Kim turns to face her boyfriend, the tired child yawning in her arms.

"I shouldn't," Adam shakes his head.

Halstead stands up, "Come on man. You might as well start practicing now."

"No, I think I'll pass."

Kim extends her towards her fiancé, "Hold her."

"She's so small."

"Just hold her! You're not going to break her."

"What if I do?"

"…then I'll break you. Come on! Hold her."

Ruzek is given the baby and he awkwardly holds beneath her arms. His own arms are extended and her feet dangle freely in the air, "Support her head," Antonio worriedly orders, approaching Adam to assist him in handling the baby.

"Hold her up!" Olinsky chimes in.

"She's a baby not some hazardous waste!" Antonio remarks, his own hands extended towards the infant just in case she slips from Adam's hold, "One hand under her bottom and the other put under her head! Bring her towards you, lay her against you." Adam follows orders and with the little girl cradled against his chest, her head in the crook of his arm, he starts rocking her. Everyone else in the room begins to calm when the child is safely resting in Adam's arms, however, she doesn't stop wailing. Her tear ducts weren't formed yet, but it didn't stop her from crying her lungs out. Her cries overwhelmed their ears and Ruzek grew antsy, bouncing the small infant in his arms, "She's crying! What do I do? I don't know what to do!"

Erin hops to her feet, "Give her to me." She doesn't wait for Ruzek to extend her daughter towards her, she scoops her up herself. And the moment she was comfortably rested in her mother's arms, she stopped crying. It was instant, almost immediately after being taken from Adam's arms, "I swear she doesn't like me."

His comment is ignored as Voight approaches the newborn, "Let me look at her." He peers into her open, watery eyes scanning the blurred world before her.

"Want to hold her?" Erin asks, averting her eyes between her daughter and her sergeant.

The words were like magic to his ears; he had been waiting all day and night for this moment. With a nod of the head and his arms extended, she is placed into her grandfather's arms. His eyes glisten as he peers down at the human form of innocence resting peacefully in his arms; she yawns and it melts his heart. Voight brings her even closer and settles her against his chest, "Do we finally get to know this little girl's name?" Her head lies against his shoulder and her eyes flutter open and closed, battling against sleep. Circles rubbed into her back from her grandfather as he hums a sweet tune –a melody that Camille hummed to Justin and the same jingle he and Justin had hummed to Daniel when he was a baby.

"I am going to miss calling her Baby Halstead," Burgess whispers adoringly watching a stretched out yawn appear on the baby's face. She watches the parents –her closest friends- watch their daughter fall asleep in Voight's arms.

"I'm going to still call her that." Ruzek declared, crossing his arms defiantly.

Kim snickers, ensuring her voice is the volume of a whisper as she responds, "I can't picture a 15 year old Baby Halstead still letting you call her Baby Halstead."

"She won't have a choice; she'll always be Baby Halstead to me." Ruzek argued.

As the two bickered back and forth in whispered tones, Hank continued to rub circles into the baby's back, hum softly and rock side to side. A smile of grace and content appeared on his face when his eyes closed to enjoy and embrace this moment. He didn't get a chance to do this with Daniel when he was less than a day old. He saw Daniel on special occasions and the moments and milestones he missed with his grandson, he hoped and yearned to be there for his granddaughter's. When complete silence filled the room, his eyes opened and averted towards the new parents, "So, do we have a name?"

"We do," Jay answers, taking a hold of his wife's hand before answering, "It's Haven."

"Her name is Haven Camille Halstead," Erin added.

Dawson comments, scratching the back of his head in thought, "That's different."

"That's unique." Kim offers her opinion while mentally repeating the name in her head until it grew on her. She liked it. It's different, unique and special.

"That's adorable," Platt asserts.

"That's beautiful," Voight finally responds, walking the sleeping baby over to the bassinet, "She's beautiful. And I love it." He carefully lays her down and Jay approaches to lay the newborn hospital blanket over her exposed arms and legs; the onesie didn't cover much.

"How'd you think of it?" Olinsky questions, eyes averting between the couple, willing to hear an answer from either one of them. When Jay doesn't look up and keeps his eyes on his daughter, he turns to Erin for the answer.

Lindsay runs her hands down her hospital gown, while inhaling and exhaling an exhausted breath of air, "When I was in his basement," the second her incident with Tyler is brought up, it gains the attention of everyone in the room, "all I could think about was her," she walks over to the bassinet, "She kept my mind off the pain, off the fear and off of everything," momentarily tearing her eyes off her daughter to look up at her team, she continues, "It may sound hard to believe, but she kept me safe. She kept me protected. She kept me sheltered," Erin licked her dry lips, "The thought of her became my place of safety."

"Our safe place," Jay interjects into his wife's monologue.

"Our safe haven," Erin adds with finality.

"Hence the name," Voight ponders.

One tear escapes and trickles down Erin's cheek as nods, "Hence the name."

The end

 **A/N:** Hello everyone! While Cat and Mouse has come to an end, I've been considering posting a sequel that follows their first year as parents. This story has been intense and I think we all deserve some light-hearted moments and family time. Let me know what you all think and thanks for your continued support and reviews; it's one of the many reasons I continue to write.


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